Freefall
by giant-sequoia
Summary: Sequel to "Gravity". Shepard spares the clone's life, intending to teach him what it means to be human. Meanwhile, Reapers. Also, plot-peripheral sex (will be skip-overable if desired). Male Shepard, biotic paragon Earthborn war hero. Shepard/Steve Cortez. Humanistic themes. Violence. Eventual smut: Shepard, Steve, James, and the clone in various combinations.
1. Part One: Why We Fight

**α**

**BEGIN**

Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice. Justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.

_Martin Luther King, Jr._

"**Freefall"**

**Part One: Why We Fight**

**Chapter 1**

Watching his own body and face walking and talking independently was strange enough, but what truly unnerved Markus Shepard about the clone was how powerfully he hated. In between exchanges of gunfire and biotics during their inevitable, turbulent confrontation in the Normandy's shuttle bay, Shepard found himself face-to-face with the clone several times. Their eyes locked together as they engaged in a biotic shoving match, each struggling to nullify and overpower the other's fields. These encounters lasted mere moments, but always long enough for Shepard to get an eyeful of his own face twisted with rage, hurling threats and insults and increasingly desperate, forced claims of authenticity.

"_I am Commander Shepard!_"

It made his skin crawl.

James was more than willing to hurl scathing rejoinders along with his frag grenades and charged shotgun blasts. EDI, as always, was an efficient multitasker, suppressing the clone's few remaining CAT6 minions as they arrived with her holographic decoys and Paladin pistol while trading powerful electric discharges with the elusive Maya Brooks. Shepard concentrated on limiting the clone's mobility with biotic singularities and weakening his armour with warp fields, taking shots with his favoured Carnifex when he could. The effort was exhausting after the long battles in the Archives, the docks, and the CIC. He was down to his last few high-calorie combat stamina drinks, which tasted foul but gave him the strength he needed to keep powering his biotics. Shepard rationed them carefully.

Minutes into the fight, a comm from Liara brought both good and bad news. She and the others had managed to break through the CAT6 jamming measures and restore contact, but the Normandy was also preparing to jump to FTL. They had limited time to prevent the ship from leaving Citadel space, an imperative. Shepard wouldn't have put it past Brooks and the clone to sacrifice the Normandy if they thought they were going to lose control of it. Unfortunately, occupied as they were, Shepard, James, and EDI had no means of preventing the Normandy's escape from within the ship.

At which point Steve chimed in: "Roger that, Commander. We'll proceed with plan B."

"Plan B? What the hell is plan B?" Joker sounded suspicious, and Shepard had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

"Be careful, Steve," he said on a private channel. "Come back to me."

A quiet "Always" reassured him for the next few minutes.

Shepard was unused to having only two of his friends and squadmates accompany him as his fire team, but time and space had been at a premium. In combat, particularly close-quarters combat, Shepard was more of a blasting ruin kind of guy than a shrewd tactician, but he had clearly chosen well for this particular fight. Few opponents could survive more than one blast from James's modified Claymore shotgun at close range, which he complemented well with his brawling, chaotic fighting style. His general noisiness and knack for making himself unavoidable allowed Shepard and EDI to remain comparatively low-profile, and the sheer durability of James's heavy armour and fortified shields meant he could withstand all the enemy attention he inevitably drew. Some of the CAT6 grunts clued in enough to put some of the heavy crates and equipment between themselves and James, but a well-aimed shockwave or biotic lash from Shepard – whenever he could afford to take his attention off the clone – forced them out of hiding and into James's deadly sights.

Maya Brooks succeeded in making a spectacular nuisance of herself, cycling unpredictably between shocking EDI into momentary stillness, draining Shepard's barrier, and firing at James whenever his back was turned. All the while she darted around the shuttle bay, making expert use of her personal cloaking device and frequently popping up a dozen meters away from where Shepard had mentally pegged her most likely location. A few times, when Shepard biotically lashed out at her in frustration, she regrouped with the surviving CAT6 engineers, forcing Shepard to retreat from their relentlessly destructive automated drones. Unlike their less technically-savvy allies, the engineers were smart enough to have ignored James's taunts, and had thus far kept their distance from him. No doubt the sight of their comrades' heads and shoulders disappearing in sprays of gore, and the relative impunity with which the heavily armoured marine seemed to shrug off their fire, demonstrated the danger of engaging him up close clearly enough.

James had briefly tried returning the favour by switching to his N7 Valkyrie assault rifle, and while his marksmanship skills were just as lethal at long range as his blasting skills were up close, the engineers were canny enough to keep their shields fully charged whenever they exposed themselves to his fire. They remained stubbornly alive, and James soon resumed dispensing carnage with his shotgun. By advancing on whatever hiding spot the engineers had picked, he was at least able to force them to continually retreat from his effective range. He coordinated with EDI and her Paladin, which could punch through even the engineers' shields if they were careless, and the together the two of them kept CAT6 away from Shepard.

Brooks seemed particularly determined to keep Shepard off balance, likely attempting to compensate for his biotics. It was clear that his strength in that regard vastly outmatched the clone's. Shepard didn't know or care how the Cerberus geneticists had managed to implant element zero into their clone without killing him, but in the course of the battle it had become quite plain that Shepard's long experience, cybernetics, and state-of-the-art implant gave him a considerable edge. Even so, the clone's warp fields had knocked James off his feet once already, and he was powerful enough that Shepard made it a priority to keep his attention firmly on himself. Should James be caught by surprise or with his shields down, the clone could easily have killed him from a dozen meters away. EDI's mobile platform had a small eezo core which could partially nullify dangerous mass effect fields, but Shepard was not about to test her limits if he could help it.

During this time, the subtle but detectable pulse of jumping past lightspeed had not shaken the ship, so Shepard knew they were still in Citadel airspace. That was good, but there could hardly be much more time remaining before the ship was ready to jump.

"Cortez, what's your status?" he said over the comm when he had a moment. He and the clone were circling each other rapidly around a battered, warp-weakened ammunition crate.

"Moving in, Commander," Steve replied.

Several moments later, the ship suddenly lurched hard to starboard, throwing Shepard into the docked spare Kodiak and causing the clone to stumble. Shepard shoved himself back into a standing position, diving in a roll away from the crate with the goal of finding a clear shot while the clone was still recovering. The deck under his feet no longer felt stable; the ship seemed to have lost partial function in its inertial dampeners, or else it was engaged in intense evasive maneuvers, or both. Shepard's Carnifex shot punched the clone's shoulder as he staggered out of sight with a curse. A biotic shockwave responded from behind the crate, which Shepard barely positioned himself in time to counter with a shockwave of his own. The clone was shouting into his comm; Shepard caught the words "Shoot it!" over the crunching metal of the crate and the dissonant, fluttering snaps of interfering mass effect fields. Moments later the shuttle bay's exterior door began to open mere meters away from where they fought, simultaneously releasing a sudden wind into the bay and revealing a breathtaking view.

The cityscape of Kithoi Ward sprawled below them and far into the distance, though its point steadily approached. Vacuum-sealed starscrapers flashed past with alarming speed; they were certainly flying much faster, and lower, than was legal or safe for a ship of the Normandy's size in Wards airspace. The ship's turbulent evasive motion was now explained, as they were flying low enough for several of the largest buildings to present a serious collision hazard. The other Wards hovered in the sky above, seemingly unsupported – the Presidium was to their rear – while the Serpent Nebula glittered beyond it all.

Steve's docked Kodiak launched as soon as the door was clear. Shepard caught the briefest glimpse of a skycar flying ahead of them, dodging shots from the Normandy's secondary guns, before the clone lunged at him and he was forced to divert his attention to more pressing matters.

"Shepard!" EDI called from behind him just as James said "Loco!" over the comm. The sounds of their voices were punctuated by a blast from James's Claymore.

"You alright?" James asked. "That door's not secure!"

Evidently they had been keeping an eye on Shepard just as he had been keeping an eye on them. "Here!" Shepard responded, deflecting each of the clone's rapid biotic jabs with backhanded smacks of his own and blocking out the distraction of the Ward, the Normandy's guns impacting Citadel starscrapers, and the skycar racing past in his peripheral vision. "Busy!"

The clone managed to get a gut punch under Shepard's guard, but the mass-elevating field behind it was weak and failed to breach his barrier. Even so, the impact forced Shepard back a step, and the clone took the opportunity to raise his gun – a modded N7 Hurricane, which unlike the punch would shred his barrier at this range. Shepard reacted instinctively, shoving a few kilonewtons of force diagonally downward and launching himself up and away while at the same time sending the clone reeling. Shepard arched his back in a physical mnemonic to diminish his own mass until he was feather-light, countering the pull of the Normandy's artificial grav-plane long enough to flip himself right side up and orchestrate a smooth, graceful landing on one knee next to James's workbench, safely out of the clone's range.

Numerous crates now stood between the two of them, which removed the clone as an immediate threat but also meant finding him again was now Shepard's highest priority. He looked up, swiftly taking stock of the situation. James was fighting with two CAT6 grunts nearby, busy impaling one through the gut with his Claymore's omni-blade attachment while kicking the other in the groin. EDI hovered nearby, watching his back, her omni-tool alight and buzzing with activity while she fired across the bay to suppress a sniper trying to get a bead on James.

Shepard eyed James's weights for a moment, considering their potential as biotically thrown projectiles, and was about to head over to regroup with his friends when a cool, smooth arm wrapped itself around his neck. Brooks deactivated her cloaking field with an electronic whine, tightening her grip as Shepard immediately raised his pistol.

"Give up, not-Shepard," she said against his ear, pressing her weapon against his side. His barrier flared, preventing it from touching his armour.

"Even _you_ can't believe that maniac could pass for me," he retorted, carefully aiming over his shoulder and firing. Brooks bent back to avoid his shot, yanking on his neck while she did so. Shepard, having anticipated this, hunched himself forward as much as he could in the opposite mnemonic to the one he had used moments earlier. His own mass dramatically increased, Brooks was unprepared to support his weight and fell over with Shepard's armoured, mass-elevated bulk on top of her. She let out a pained cry as the impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and her grip on Shepard's neck loosened. He immediately reversed his mnemonic, making himself light enough to leap back to his feet with ease and turn to level his pistol into her face. To her credit, Brooks already had her own weapon raised in response even though she was gasping for breath and clutching her side, where her shields had failed and her armour had taken damage.

Shepard's eyebrows shot up when he recognized the shotgun Brooks was pointing at him. It was an N7 Crusader, a valuable and exclusive piece of equipment. And the clone – wherever he was, still an urgent concern in Shepard's mind – was using a Hurricane.

"I don't know how you got your hands on N7 weapons, but you're going to return them before this is done," Shepard said, biotically lifting James's weights and letting them drift over to Brooks. Carefully, he elevated their mass while keeping them suspended with a tiny singularity. At the same time, his hardsuit computer alerted him through his neural HUD that Brooks had just applied a global medigel treatment to stabilize her injuries.

Shepard immediately warp-detonated his singularity as Brooks fired at him and rolled away with astonishing speed, just barely avoiding the weights as they slammed down onto the deck with tremendous force. Shepard heard the whine of her cloak re-engaging and whirled to track her, but she was already gone. He cursed.

"Shepard!" EDI called. "I have her heat signature locked – I will keep her at bay! Find the clone!"

Shepard gave himself a shake and took a few breaths, scanning the damaged shuttle bay for his target. James had finished off the two grunts attacking him and the sniper had fallen silent after repeated bursts from EDI's omni-tool and pistol. The ship leapt beneath them as whoever was flying it barely avoided a starscraper. Noiselessly, EDI reported through his omni-tool to his neural HUD that while he had been fighting with Brooks, Steve's Kodiak had launched, piloted by one of the engineers who had survived her attacks thus far. Shepard remembered seeing it depart, and realized it must have left in pursuit of the skycar – piloted by Joker and Steve. Further, EDI had detected Brooks calling for more backup. They had at most a few moments to search the bay.

"Keep your eyes open," Shepard murmured to his friends as he passed them on his way across the bay. James responded by reloading his shotgun and EDI reached out to briefly touch his armour, a reassurance. Shepard smiled grimly, casting his gaze from the Kodiak's empty berth out to the Ward below. Whoever was flying the ship was clearly overtaxed if not downright incompetent – the open door presented as much of a hazard to the clone, Brooks, and their minions as it did to Shepard, James, and EDI.

By the time the elevator opened to disgorge more CAT6 troops, James and EDI had taken cover behind the consoles and Shepard had followed more insults to the rear of the shuttle bay. The clone threw everything from warp fields to gunfire to biotic headbutts at him, but nothing Shepard could not counter with interest. Brooks appeared again, trying to divide his attention between two high-priority targets; EDI surprised her from behind, having distracted the mercs with a decoy while James wreaked havoc among them with his shotgun.

The fight wore on for several more long minutes. EDI managed to lead Brooks away from Shepard and the clone, but the former Cerberus agent had more than proven her skill at staying alive. Shepard eventually lost track of her yet again, though she still lurked somewhere in the shuttle bay, shouting insults to him and encouragement to the clone. With EDI's decoy drawing some of their fire, over a dozen more CAT6 grunts proved little match for James, and one by one they fell on the wrong end of a brutal headshot. In between exchanges with Brooks, EDI hunted down and dispatched four more snipers, six more engineers and countless drones.

The clone's attacks, meanwhile, escalated in both viciousness and desperation. Shepard's hardsuit computers informed him that the clone had had to apply medigel several times to keep himself standing, which gave him a certain grim satisfaction. The clone was afraid – he knew he was losing – and it was beginning to show.

"You're just cybernetics!" he yelled, pushing Shepard down the center of the shuttle bay towards the still-open exterior door with repeated, weakening shockwaves. "Scarred, worn out Cerberus tech!"

"You know where I got those scars?" Shepard replied, deflecting the clone's latest shockwave with one hand. The impact jarred his arm hard, but he ignored the pain. "Feros and Noveria, and Virmire, and Ilos. And the Collector base, and Palaven and Tuchanka and Rannoch and _Thessia_!" He emphasized the last word with a shockwave of his own, one that knocked the clone off his feet and sent him flying. Shepard lashed out with a physical mnemonic, changing the clone's direction in mid-air and hurling him into the spare shuttle with a _clang_. He raised his pistol and aimed between the clone's eyes. "I earned these scars protecting the galaxy. You got yours from a petri dish!"

The clone hauled himself to his feet and charged at Shepard, snarling with rage. Shepard was taken by surprise at the speed with which the clone closed the distance between them, ignoring his shots even though his barrier had only stopped the first and slowed the second. Shepard had time to angle himself so the impact would not throw him over the guard rail onto the dangling launch ramp before the clone ran into him, forcing him to brace himself with both his physical strength and biotic mass elevation.

Biotic power flared between them as each tried to hammer the other with high-mass fields. The clone had tossed aside his gun and attacked with his fists, all reason lost. Shepard gritted his teeth with the effort of pushing more energy from his strained, overworked nervous system and managed to keep the clone's hands away from his face. Fury had lent the clone additional strength; his face was contorted with savage hatred, his eyes wild and inhuman through the rippling blue of their biotics.

"_I'm_ _Shepard_," he screamed. "Do you hear me, you bastard? _I'm Shepard!_"

"No," Shepard replied with a calmness that surprised even himself, pulling his right arm back in a physical mnemonic for the strongest biotic bunch he could muster. "You're not."

He thrust his fist forward, ramming through the clone's fragile barrier and releasing his charged mass-elevating field at the moment of impact. The clone flailed backwards with a grunt of pain and toppled backwards over the guard rail. He began to slide down the ramp, and with his clearly flagging strength he yanked hard with biotic force. Shepard found himself thrown forward from behind. Unable to stop himself in time, he too fell headfirst over the guard rail.

The clone twisted to reach out and grab Shepard by his ankle, trying to upset his footing. Keenly aware that they were meters from tumbling out of the shuttle bay's atmosphere and into the vacuum of high Wards airspace, Shepard veered around a brief biotic singularity – a trick he had learned watching Matriarch Benezia on Noveria. He managed to redirect his momentum so that he landed on top of the clone instead of beside him. Sick and tired of the clone's attempts to take everything he had, Shepard landed a couple of satisfying punches on his doppelgänger's face. He was too tired and angry to even bother adding any biotic force.

The clone spat blood in his face and shoved Shepard off of him with his feet. Shepard fell onto his back. He was up again in an instant, but at that moment the Normandy swerved to avoid a building, and he fell right back onto his butt. He spun onto his stomach as he slid down the ramp, and he knew a moment of heart-stopping terror when he felt his lower body pass through the force field and go over the edge. He clamped his arms hard against the ramp, leaving scrapes with his elbow plates. He shuddered to a delicate halt with only his upper chest and head still in the Normandy's atmosphere. Alerts on his neural HUD informed him that there was hard vacuum outside 73% of his suit.

Beside him, the clone had tumbled in a parallel course and was now dangling from the lip, barely keeping his head and neck inside the force field. The glare he shot in Shepard's direction positively sizzled with hate.

"Look at you," the clone ground out, and Shepard was shocked to see that there were tears in his eyes. "What makes you so damn special? Why you and not me?"

At that moment, something changed in Markus Shepard's heart. All at once, all the revulsion and fear he felt for his clone became a terrible, aching sadness. He knew exactly what it was about him that was so special; they were headed for him right now, arms outstretched to pull him up the ramp. Behind them, Maya Brooks hovered uncertainly near a crate, stolen weapon cradled in her arms, eyes darting between Shepard and the clone. The look he gave her – a pitiful, pleading look – seemed to make her decision for her, and she turned and disappeared. The clone squeezed his eyes shut, slipping a little further outside the ship's atmosphere as James leaned down to pull Shepard up onto the ramp.

"Hang on, Loco. We gotcha."

EDI pulled James back into the shuttle bay, and Shepard was able to clamber back to his feet.

"What about this pendejo?" James asked, indicating the clone with a disdainful jerk of his head.

Shepard looked down at the clone. Their eyes met, and the gaze was no different – hot with hatred and rage. This time, however, Shepard saw through it to the loneliness and fear that lay beneath. There was a lack of some vital, affirmative force in that gaze, an awful void that cried out to be filled. He had nothing and no one, and he knew it.

Shepard steadied his footing, and then lowered himself onto one knee. He reached out towards the clone. "Take my hand."

The clone stared at him in disbelief, a tear running down his face. "And then?"

"And then you live," Shepard urged. "Please. You have a choice. Choose life. You don't have to be alone."

The clone hesitated, took a gasping breath, and reached up to take Shepard's hand. His other hand slipped immediately, and he very nearly fell out of the atmosphere to his death. Shepard tugged hard, refusing to let him go, and hunched forward to elevate his own mass so that the clone had an anchor with which to pull himself up onto the ramp.

James was looking at Shepard like he had just ordered him to attack a Reaper on foot. "Loco-"

"James, don't," Shepard said, raising a hand to forestall what was obviously forthcoming. "He's me."

"He's _evil_!"

"He's not evil, he's ignorant," Shepard corrected, realizing the truth as soon as he said it.

"What difference does it make?!" James said, his voice reaching a slightly higher pitch than usual.

Shepard looked at the clone, who had quickly scrambled up past him to the relative stability just inside the shuttle bay and was refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "It makes all the difference in the world."

James stared at him for a moment, and then turned to look at the clone.

"This is a bad idea," James growled. He raised his shotgun. The clone noticed the threat and began to back away, eyes wide with fear darting about for his own discarded gun. "I understand if you don't want to kill him. So let me do it."

"Stand _down_," Shepard snapped, grabbing James's arm and pulling until the younger marine reluctantly complied. "I'm in charge here. The decision and the consequences are _mine_. We'll talk about it later."

James grumbled wordlessly at him and pulled his arm away. He shot one last simmering glance at the clone before turning and stalking off into the shuttle bay. EDI had already disappeared, probably to find Brooks.

Shepard turned to the clone. He had turned away from James as soon as it was clear Shepard would not allow him to be shot moments after saving his life. He was now leaning on his side against the spare shuttle, staring out over the Ward. He looked listless and exhausted.

Shepard was pretty wiped out himself. The battle had taken everything he had, and it was an effort just to keep himself standing upright. He was also starving after such intensive usage of his biotics, but dealing with that would have to wait.

"EDI," Shepard murmured over a private channel. "You have any cameras in the shuttle bay?"

"I have regained limited access," EDI responded. "I will have full control of the ship within the minute."

"Keep an eye on him," Shepard said. "Make sure he doesn't leave the shuttle bay."

"Understood, Shepard."

"Lucky for us, they weren't here long enough to do any real damage," Steve informed Shepard as they surveyed the aftermath of the battle. Steve was perusing some relevant data readouts on his tablet. Shepard, rather than paying attention to the data Steve was showing him, found himself distracted by the fluid, graceful motions of the pilot's fingers. "Nothing we can't easily fix, anyway. The CIC was a bit shot up – good job on that, by the way-"

Shepard raised his hands in affected defensiveness. "Not my fault," he said. "They _knew_ they were cannon fodder, and they still attacked us."

"Uh huh." Steve maintained a carefully neutral expression, but his eyes were smiling. "Fortunately, it seems Cerberus was aware of the recent changes to Alliance operating protocols when they updated the Normandy's design. The command center was built with the possibility of a gunfight in mind..." Steve closed the data readouts on his tablet with a tap. "I might need James's help cleaning up the damage to the shuttle bay, though."

Several meters away from where they were walking, a pained cry arose. Steve and Shepard looked around to see James standing near his workbench with his fists clenched.

"My weights!" James complained. "Aww _man_... I had them all stacked just right!"

His voice trailed off in a piteous whine. Shepard cleared his throat and smoothed his hand over his mouth a bit, turning to resume facing forwards. Steve shot him a look, plainly still fighting the urge to grin.

"Plus they overloaded the heat diffusion system firing at us," Joker added as he joined them, sounding more amused than concerned. "They had the deadliest ship in the Alliance fleet and they couldn't even take down a skycar. Though they did manage to hit lots of buildings." He snorted his contempt.

"Are you surprised?" Shepard said. "The best ship in the fleet needs the best _pilot_ in the fleet. Otherwise why even bother?"

"Exactly," Joker agreed.

"Any serious damage to the Ward?"

"C-Sec's dealing with it," Joker said. "There were a few casualties, but they'll live. It'll take a few days to repair the damage, but safety measures prevented any serious problems. Funnily enough, there _are_ protocols for a breach in a vacuum-sealed starscraper," he commented with an air of surprise. "How is it that they thought of that, but not of an evil clone of their best Spectre taking a deadly warship out for a joyride?"

"Maybe now they'll fill some of the obvious holes in their regulations," Steve said dryly as he began to move away.

"I don't know if you noticed, but shuttle guy here did some crazy stunt flying to keep us in one piece," Joker said, nodding at Steve. "_I_ was impressed, and that's saying something."

Steve turned back to face them long enough to spread his arms and smile. "I was motivated," he said with a wink

Shepard's heart immediately skipped a beat. Three months together, during which time he had fallen in love with this man who had managed to draw him out of his shell like nobody else in his life had ever been able to, and still there was the odd time now and then when Steve could make Shepard feel weak in the knees with a gesture; leaving him fumbling over his tongue, trying to find his words.

He cleared his throat again, forcing his errant thoughts back to the present situation. "And EDI?" he said to Joker, who was looking at him with eyebrows raised. "Is she back online?"

"I am once again fully in control of the Normandy," EDI reported in lieu of an answer from Joker. "My systems have recovered from the unexpected shutdown, and I am back at full operating capacity. Thank you for asking, Shepard." Her mobile platform stood near the returned shuttle, guarding the clone, who sat hunched against the back of Steve's procurement console with his head resting in his arms.

"Glad to hear it," Shepard said, eyeing the clone for a moment. He turned to Joker. "Survivors among the mercs?"

"Just one crappy-ass pilot," Joker said. "EDI's got him under control until C-Sec can take him. And... _her_." He nodded toward where Steve was returning, herding Brooks ahead of him with James's borrowed N7 Valkyrie for good measure. The former Cerberus agent was unarmed and cuffed, but Shepard was damned if he was going to let his guard down. He was only now beginning to realize that something had felt off about Maya Brooks since she had met him in Ryuusei's, but he had been convinced of her loyalty long enough for her to take advantage of that. He had underestimated her – they all had – and it had nearly cost them a great deal. That, plus her presently unconcerned smile and the gleam of mischief in her eyes, was more than enough to convince Shepard that Brooks still had a few tricks up her sleeve.

"Alliance is taking her to a secure facility," Joker explained. "Maybe she can give them some dirt on Cerberus."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Maybe."

Brooks gave him a sweet, innocent grin. "I'll be _more_ than happy to cooperate with the authorities."

Shepard sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Maya, I know that voice." Did she really think he was going to fall for this act, _after_ she had revealed her true colours?

"Do you really?"

Shepard lowered his hand and stared at her, hard. "You're getting a chance to redeem yourself," he said. "Don't waste it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Shepard noticed the clone raise his head from his arms and look over to where they were standing.

"So _serious_," Brooks said playfully. "We were good together though, weren't we? At least for a little while? Come on, Commander, admit it... Some part of you liked having me around." She leaned towards him. "Looking up to the _legend_?"

Shepard would admit no such thing, as her gross incompetence as a field agent – now obviously an act, but he had not known that at the time – had privately irritated him to no end. He turned away.

"We had some laughs," Brooks mused. "And who knows? Maybe we'll have more someday."

Incensed, Shepard turned back around to face her. There were enemies he could respect, but ones who refused to take him seriously were not among them. "No," he said with quiet intensity, continuing forward until he was right in her face. "We're not. Because you're going to stay in your cell, and do your time."

Brooks didn't miss a beat. "Afraid I'll escape? Come back for revenge? Is the great Commander Shepard pleading for his life?"

"I'm pleading for _yours_," he growled.

She looked surprised.

"But if you don't think it's worth my time, then say so," Shepard continued. "I'm a Spectre; I could shoot you right now and nobody would question it." He stared into her eyes, keeping his expression stony, until she dropped her gaze.

"Considerate as ever," she said, and Shepard knew he had her convinced because the oily charm was gone from her voice. Satisfied, he leaned back. "Then I suppose... I'm off to lockup."

"Good luck," he said.

Brooks smiled wistfully. "You know... _he_ wouldn't have let me live." She shot a glance in the clone's direction. "He wouldn't have let either of us live."

Shepard followed her gaze for a few moments. The clone was watching their interaction closely.

Shepard looked away. "You can't clone everything."

Brooks watched him for a moment, apparently considering what he had said. Steve gave her a push, and they set off towards the elevator.

Shepard looked back at the clone. His expression was full of anger.

**Ω**


	2. Chapter 2

**α**

"**Freefall"**

**Chapter 2**

Shepard rummaged around in one of the large pantries in his new apartment's kitchen, searching for snack food while enjoying the close presence of his boyfriend. Steve was leaning against the counter beside Shepard with his arms folded, watching him. He always smelled a little bit like metal and ozone, even after a shower, but since getting closer to him in the last few months Shepard had noticed subtler, but rich natural scent that hung close to his skin. It reminded him of the vanilla used in a bakery he had haunted on the streets of Earth during his childhood. Steve claimed the scent was from his aftershave, but Shepard had smelled that and it was completely different. He was not even sure what he smelled _was_ vanilla. Whatever it was, it always helped him relax while staying alert. It also seemed to leave him perpetually semi-aroused, but maybe that was just Steve.

It felt wonderful to be in the company of his friends, taking time just for themselves. Their victory over CAT6 had soothed some of the sting of their recent defeat at Thessia, although (Shepard had checked) no new leads had yet emerged on how to one-up Cerberus. He had informed Admiral Hackett and the Council of the situation and put in a request to have his DNA and other bioprints re-updated, but that could wait. For now, he and his crew were taking some well-deserved time off while they still could.

Garrus leaned against the counter across the kitchen from Shepard and Steve, and Kaidan rested against the same counter from the opposite side. Liara, Samantha, James, and Joker sat on the leather couches in the living room. EDI stood behind the couch near Joker, while Tali had chosen one of the soft ottomans next to the fireplace. Javik and Wrex lingered near the door, apparently content to stand.

"Hey, Loco," James said. "What's the holdup? We need munchies. There must be chips, or something."

"I'm working on it," Shepard groused. "You could _help_ me if you're so hungry, instead of just sitting there."

"Nah," James laughed at him. "You're the homeowner! Come on, you're supposed to host us! Provide refreshments and entertainment and shit."

"Wasn't it _you_ complaining yesterday that this place had no food?" Shepard shot back. "Did you even look?"

"Yes," James said defensively. "Well... sort of. I looked in the fridge. Not the cupboards."

Steve was snickering. Shepard rolled his eyes and tried a different shelf. While the apartment was indeed well-stocked with food, everything he had come across so far required preparation. Maybe that was why James had opted for volus-delivered pizza.

"I'll help you look, Shepard," Kaidan offered, coming around the counter.

"Thanks." Shepard moved to the next pantry. "Steve, you want to pour some drinks? See what we have. Vega can go without if there's nothing in there to his taste."

"Hey!"

Steve set to the task, glancing over at Kaidan as the other man opened a cupboard. "I think that's dishes."

Kaidan closed the cupboard. It was dishes.

"Aha!" Shepard emerged finally with three bags of pretzels, two of which were unopened. "All right, everyone sit down and shut up, we're having pretzels. Kaidan, bang out some of those bowls on the counter, would you please?"

Kaidan sighed and reopened the cupboard he had just closed. Shepard patted his shoulder in gratitude. "Thanks."

"'Bang out some bowls?'" Steve repeated with wry amusement, moving out of the way for Shepard to set down the pretzel bags. "In a good mood, Shepard?"

"I'm in a good mood," Shepard declared with a grin as he ripped open a bag. "We beat the bad guys, we got a cool hideout, our ship wasn't stolen, and it's being repaired. We're still alive, we're together, and it's shore leave."

"Why did you spare the clone?" Javik said suddenly.

Just like that, Shepard's good mood withered. His smile faded, and Steve shot the Prothean an aggravated look.

"Not yet," Shepard said. A subtle anxiety had been creeping over him for most of the last several hours, which now succeeded in pushing away his joviality. He had not expected all of his friends to agree with his decision unconditionally, but the looks some of them were now giving him made him nervous. The possible repercussions of what he had done were still unfolding in the back of his mind, and he was no longer quite as certain that his decision had been the right one.

"Then when?" Javik asked.

"Snack first, and then we'll talk," Shepard said as he transferred handfuls of pretzels into the bowls Kaidan had provided. "Protheans are levo, aren't they? Have some pretzels, Javik, see what you think. Ancient human baked food item. Crunchy. Salty. Save two thirds of a bag for Wrex." He kept the already opened, half-full bag for himself. About to reach in for a pile, Shepard noticed Garrus giving him a longsuffering look, and tore open the third bag instead.

"Don't give me that look, Garrus, I thought of everything. Well... Anderson did. Maybe he has turian friends, I don't know." He indicated the label. "Look, dextro pretzels, and they're even pre-sterilized. Tali, you can like... grind them up or something, can't you? Yes? Good. Pretzels are good."

Kaidan carried a few bowls into the living room and passed them around. Steve followed with the drinks, afterwards returning to the kitchen to watch with amusement as Shepard crammed pretzels into his mouth.

"You are all too comfortable," Javik muttered over the ensuing crunches. "In my cycle, we ate what we could, when we could. We were grateful for whatever we had. We considered ourselves fortunate to find ingredients untainted by radiation, eezo, or toxic chemicals."

"Your cycle sounds like crap," Wrex told him, not for the first time.

"Pretzels, man," James said around a mouthful. "I haven't had them in ages. Man, I miss those huge ones, you know? They're so bad for you but they're so _good_. Think they sell them anywhere on the Citadel?"

"Probably," Shepard said after swallowing. "If they do, we'll find out where." He took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat. He worked pretzel matter out of his teeth with his tongue while flexing his fingers against the countertop, going over in his mind what he needed to say. He was still hungry. Steve moved up next to him and touched him softly on the small of his back.

"Shepard...?"

"I'm fine," Shepard said shortly. Steve raised his eyebrows, and Shepard immediately felt bad. "Sorry," he said, more quietly. "I'm... I'll be okay. Thanks."

Steve rubbed small, calming circles on his back. Shepard felt better.

"This is interesting," Liara commented after sampling a pretzel. "I've never had... pretzels before."

"Good, right?" Shepard said. He looked at Javik, who was examining the bowl of pretzels in Wrex's hand with suspicion. "C'mon, Javik, try one or three. It's a cultural experience. Everyone needs salt. Electrolytes. Good for everyone, better for biotics."

Everyone in the room was now watching Javik, interested to see his reaction. He chose a pretzel and bit into it, expression as unreadable as ever.

"So?" Shepard prompted.

Javik chewed, swallowed, and took a moment to examine the rest of the pretzel in his hand before answering. "You say they are ancient, but everything in this cycle is new to me. It... reminds me of how much I have missed. Evolution, advancement... history."

"Are they good?"

Javik ate the rest of the pretzel. "They are not bad," he decided.

Kaidan snorted, and Garrus's mandibles twitched in amusement.

"I'll take it," said Shepard. He proceeded to consume most of the rest of the bag in front of him, excepting a handful he gave to Steve when the pilot elbowed him.

For the next several moments, the only sounds in the room were the crunching of pretzels and the faint whine of skycars passing outside. It became obvious that everyone was waiting for Shepard to talk. He swallowed what he was chewing and leaned against the countertop with his hands spread flat, staring between them and wondering how to start.

"So I spared the clone," he started, looking up at the people arrayed around the room with him. Joker made a sarcastic "Oh, _really_?" face, and Shepard shot back a snide look that flickered briefly to a genuine smile.

"I've spoken to Hackett and the Council," Shepard said. "They're not happy, but they're trusting me for now, and they've requested a meeting for more details on what I plan to do with him."

"I'm curious about that myself," Kaidan said. "What _do_ you plan to do with him?"

"I'm going to teach him how to be human," Shepard said.

Kaidan's eyebrows shot up and he blinked a few times. "Oh."

"What does that mean, teach him how to be human?" James asked.

"Exactly what it says on the tin," Shepard said. "He doesn't _know_ anything. Anything important, I mean. He knows how to walk and talk and fight and he has neural inboards – he has a brain, he has facts and statistics. But there's nothing of value in his mind, no reason or faith or love or respect. He doesn't know how to think or how to act as a sapient being. I... I could teach him."

Shepard looked back down at the counter, still unsure of how best to phrase what he wanted to communicate. He had always been more of a thinker than a talker.

"I couldn't let him die," he said distantly, remembering. "I had to give him a chance."

"A chance to change?" Liara suggested, and Shepard nodded.

"I know it seems like a long shot," he said.

Joker's derisive snort made clear how long a shot he thought it was, and James seemed inclined to agree.

"I believe he has the right to try," Shepard said. "I'd want the same chance were our positions reversed. Wouldn't you, if it were you?"

"Kinda hard to relate to a clone of the galaxy's biggest hero who tried to kill him and take over his life," Joker pointed out.

"Maybe, but try not to think of him like that," Shepard replied. "Think of him as a living being in pain, one who's made errors he can still fix."

"This is dangerous, Shepard," Garrus said.

Shepard nodded. "I know. And let me just say right now – he will _not_ hurt any of you, or anyone else. I won't let him. This was my decision, and the consequences – whatever they might be – are on my head. It doesn't feel like a mistake to me, but if I'm wrong about that, then nobody will pay for it but me."

"Hold on a moment," Samantha said. "Any of _us_? He's not – he's not staying on the ship with us, is he?"

Tali had stopped crunching filtered pretzel crumbs behind her mask. Liara looked alarmed.

"To do what I plan to do, I'll need to talk to him every day," Shepard said. "So... yes, he'll be staying on the ship. In the engineering subdeck, where he won't bother anyone. He might even come on a few missions with us."

Garrus was leaning his head into one hand. James and Joker both wore expressions like they had smelled something profoundly unpleasant.

"I'm not sure about this, Shepard," Kaidan said. Shepard turned to him to see the other man looking pensive, rubbing his lower face with one hand. "I understand the value in having another fighter on our side, for sure – especially a biotic, but... after what he did? You really think he deserves that chance?"

"Yes, I do," Shepard said. "He's alive. The Reapers would harvest him too, if they could. He has the right to fight for his survival, just like any of us."

"Shepard," Garrus said. "What you're saying makes sense, and normally I'd agree with you, but I think you might be wasting your time with this one. You heard how he talked in the Archives. What makes you think the clone even _wants_ to change?"

"Right," Wrex put in. "I know you, Shepard, but all I know about _him_ is that he tried to kill you and steal your identity. And if he'd succeeded, we'd have lost the war! He might be manipulating you, pretending to be on your side so he can get close to you when you're alone and vulnerable."

Beside him, Shepard heard Steve inhale sharply. He reached out to take Steve's hand and gave him a reassuring squeeze while he considered the matter. It was true that the clone could not be trusted – not yet, but Shepard had a gut feeling about him that he felt it unwise to ignore. What to say that would convince the others of his belief? Perhaps – what had inspired that belief in him?

"When I looked into his eyes," Shepard said, "I saw – myself. Not just in the literal sense. I saw how easily it could have been me hanging there, weak and full of hatred. What _I_ might have been, if I didn't have all of you on my side." He looked around, meeting the gaze of each of his friends in turn. "I am who I am in large part because of all of you – your loyalty, your friendship, your support. You've made me stronger than I ever could have been on my own, and we've achieved the impossible together, many times over. But the clone is alone in the dark. He's empty, except for echoes of what he's seen and what's been done to him – viciousness, lies, and spite. Most of all, he's afraid. When I saw that fear in his eyes, that loneliness, it convinced me he was worth saving. And it drove home for me how lucky I am, to have all of you."

He glanced at Steve, who was watching him tenderly. Liara and Kaidan were smiling now, and Joker's and James's expressions had softened.

"Consider this," Shepard said. "The clone was born less than a year ago, from a Cerberus cloning tank. He met Maya Brooks, who informed him that he was copied and pasted from the de facto leader of the war against the Reapers for the purpose of spare parts, but that he was no longer needed even for that. Brooks required a pawn for her pro-human agenda, and here was a convenient biotic clone ready and waiting to be filled with ideas. So he followed her – which was a mistake, and I think he knows that now."

Shepard looked at Garrus. "Remember Grunt?"

Garrus let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh yes, I remember. And now that you mention it, I suppose I can see the similarities. I seem to recall that he attacked you as soon as you woke him up, and that you'd convinced him to join us against the Collectors five minutes later."

Shepard smiled reminiscently. "That's right. The difference is Grunt had me, and the clone had Brooks. I gave Grunt two things: what he wanted immediately, which was enemies to fight, and time enough to figure out on his own what he _needed_, a place and a name in krogan society. I helped him get it done, but it was ultimately his path to walk. Brooks woke up the clone and said, This is what you are. Follow. So he did, he learned treachery at her feet, and when she betrayed him he had nowhere else to turn. She led him to ruin, but if nothing else he's proved he doesn't want to sit down and die, or go back to sleep in his tank. He's earned the right to find his own place and his own name."

"That's all well and good, Shepard," Tali said. "But you still haven't explained why you think the clone _wants_ any of this."

"As for that, it's simple," Shepard said. "It was the choice he made. When I reached out to him, he took my hand. He could have let go of the ramp, and it would have been fairly quick – painful, but over in moments and over forever. Instead he opted for the possibility of a lot _more_ pain if it came with the chance to start over. And he'll get that pain if he does it right, because it will mean recognizing how and where he went wrong. He'll need to take responsibility for what he's done if he wants forgiveness, if he ever wants to be respected as his own person. It's a choice every one of us has made, the choice everyone in the galaxy makes at one point or another. Most of us make it early on, but his situation is pretty... unusual. He needs someone to show him the way back to the light. It's up to us – up to me – to do that."

He let out a breath and stood back from the counter. That had all come out a lot easier than he had thought it would. He had said his piece, now all that remained was for his friends to tell him what they thought.

"So that's the plan," he said. "But I want to know how _you_ all feel about this before I proceed any further. I value your opinions, highly – all of you, and I want to hear them."

Nobody spoke for the next several moments. A few scattered crunches arose here and there as the various members of his crew contemplated the matter over pretzels; presently even that died down. The silence stretched long enough that Shepard began to sweat, and he realized he was expecting his friends to withhold their approval – to tell him that he had finally asked to lead them somewhere they could not follow. He snuck a glance at Steve, hoping for reassurance, but Steve was deep in thought, gaze directed at the countertop.

"I trust you, Shepard," Liara said finally, breaking the silence. "You have my support, however you choose to deal with the clone."

Relieved, Shepard let out a breath he had not even realized he was holding. It was reassuring to know that what he had asked was not so insane that one of the people he trusted most in the galaxy would refuse to consider it. "I'm glad to hear that," he said.

Liara gave him a small smile. "I may never be entirely comfortable in his presence, simply because of what he is. But I would stake my life on your influence, and I will respect him... even if I cannot bring myself to like him."

"Thank you," Shepard said. "That's all I ask."

"Count me in too, Shepard," Kaidan spoke up. Shepard turned to look at him. "It's not the call I would have made, but I trust your instincts. What you've said... it feels right. He's made mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes. I'd want the chance to make up for it if it were me. ...It's gonna be weird having another _you_ on the ship, though."

"Not another me," Shepard corrected. "Another person, who just... happens to look and sound exactly like me."

Kaidan gave him an exasperated smile. "Yeah. An unexpected identical twin brother, on his way back from the dark side. Sounds like something out of an old movie, doesn't it? It'll take some getting used to. But at this point, what with everything else that's going on, everything we've learned about the Reapers and the Protheans and the Crucible... I'm betting we'll acclimate pretty fast. And we can always use another biotic. But forgiving him for what he's done – that's a different story. That will take time."

"I understand," Shepard said. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He was feeling considerably less anxious now. Liara and Kaidan were two of his oldest and closest friends. Having their support lifted a weight off his chest. He looked at Garrus, whose mandibles were twitching thoughtfully.

"Garrus?" Shepard asked. "How about you?"

"I'm with you, Shepard," Garrus replied. "If it were me, I'd just as soon have put a bullet between his eyes. Keeping the Cerberus clone around, _and_ trying to teach him how to be good? It sounds crazy. But you've pulled off crazier stunts in the past. I'm used to just killing anyone who tries to stop us... simpler that way, and much less messy. Still – I 'm behind you all the way. You've never led us wrong before. If you think this is worth pursuing, you've got my support."

Shepard nodded.

"That said... you can be sure I'll be keeping a _very_ close eye on him, at least until he proves he can be trusted," Garrus added. "And if the game changes and you want him taken out, you just say the word. I'll make it quick and clean."

"Good to hear," Shepard said. "I don't think it'll come to that, but let's cover all our bases."

He looked around the room, hoping someone else would continue the pattern and speak up next. He was not disappointed – Wrex had something to say.

"Shepard, this is stupid," the krogan said bluntly, staring at him with one crimson eye turned forward. "That clone is demented. He's Cerberus technology, rotten to the core. You know it better than anyone that those pyjaks can't be trusted."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Wrex," Shepard said. "Trust Cerberus in general, absolutely not, but there are holdouts here and there. After all, _I'm_ Cerberus technology, too."

Wrex was unconvinced. "Maybe, but you didn't start out that way. You know who you are; you kept your own mind instead of letting them rebuild that too. But this, this is going to come back and bite you in the ass, and then _I'm_ the one who's going to have come charging in to save it – again!"

"You said the same thing on Noveria, about the rachni queen," Shepard reminded him with a smile. "Remember?"

"Uh huh. Sure. And now she's helping you build the Crucible." The krogan rolled the one eye Shepard could see in a gesture of derision. "We'll see how long _that_ lasts. Even if it does, so what? This is different and you know it. The entire galaxy wasn't at stake then. Not immediately, anyway. This clone, he wanted your identity to fill his own void. If he manages to take your spot, he'll burn the galaxy to ashes faster than if we just sit back and _let_ the Reapers harvest us."

"He won't take my spot," Shepard said, folding his arms. "I'm hard to kill."

"That you are," Wrex snorted. "You know the score, Shepard. I still think it's a stupid idea, but..." He heaved a sigh. "I've known you long enough to realize that you have a knack for pulling off stupid ideas. If it can be done, you'll do it – I wouldn't put it past anyone else. So if it's that important to you, then go ahead. Just be careful. There's no telling how that clone will react to what you intend."

Shepard nodded and was about to reply until a movement caught his eye. He turned, seeing that Joker had raised his hand. Shepard gestured for the pilot to speak.

"I'd like to second the caution, Commander," Joker said. "I got your back no matter what, you know that. If you seriously want to teach the evil clone how to love..." He laughed briefly and without real mirth. "I mean, it's like Wrex said. If it were anyone else I'd call them crazy and stupid. But it's _you_, if it can be done you'll make it work, it's classic Shepard. I just... can't help feeling like it's pointless. All that effort the guy put into to trying to bring us down, all that stuff I heard him say over the comms. That kind of hatred makes people blind and insane, I've seen it happen. I don't think he'll change. I don't think he _wants_ to change."

He shrugged. "That's my opinion. I know he let you pull him up and all, but maybe he just didn't want to die. Doesn't mean he's interested in doing a heel face turn."

"Fair enough," Shepard said. "It's true he might not be interested in redemption, or anything similar. It could be a waste of time, and if that's the case I suspect it will quickly become obvious – in which case I'll cut my losses and move on. But I'll say this: he's had one rude awakening already. I trust he knows what's at stake, both for himself and for the galaxy. If he doesn't, he'll find out the hard way soon enough. Since he responded positively to me once already, by letting me save his life, I have a hunch he'll come around on this too. He'd be stupid not to, and if he's stupid he'll die. But if he's smart, which I think he is, he'll take the chance I'm giving him."

"We," Steve spoke up suddenly. Shepard looked at him in surprise, hardly daring to hope he knew what Steve meant. The person in the room whose opinion he valued most had not yet said anything on the subject of the clone. Shepard had largely avoided looking at him, terrified of Steve's disapproval.

"The chance _we're_ giving him," Steve elaborated, and Shepard briefly closed his eyes, elated and smiling. "I... I want to help you, Mark. And I will, however I can. You taught me to choose life, no matter the circumstances. At the heart of it it's the same choice we've both made, the clone and I. Every moment we have in the world is precious, because we only get one shot. More so the moments we spend together. I'll never lose sight of that again, and I owe you everything for the realization."

"Steve," Shepard said gently. "You owe me nothing. That's the miracle of life, the miracle of love – there are no debts. The more it's shared, the more it increases. I'm just happy I could help you see that."

"You're right, but I still want to help," Steve said, looking Shepard in the eye. "The thing about sharing is that it's reciprocated. I can't think of a better way to reciprocate what you did for me than by helping you to teach the same thing to someone else that desperately needs it – just like I did."

Shepard blinked back a tear, overcome with gratitude. He glanced down for a moment, getting a grip on his emotions, and then leaned in to kiss Steve on the cheek. "Thank you," he whispered.

Steve smiled at him, a sight that never failed to make him weak in the knees. Shepard cleared his throat, remembering that there were ten other people in the room and suddenly self-conscious. "Right. Next?" He scanned the room, picking out who hadn't voiced their opinion one way or another. "How 'bout you, James?"

James looked torn. "This is good and all, the redeeming quality of love and everything, but I gotta agree with Joker and Wrex. I heard how the guy talked. Maybe he does wanna change, but is it really worth the risk? Is one more soldier really that important in the grand scheme of things?"

"Absolutely," Shepard said without hesitation. "Think of the lives he could save if he took all the energy he put into fury and resentment and directed it at the Reapers instead, or at Cerberus. We need all the help we can get right now."

James still did not look convinced, so Shepard continued. "You might be right about his overall impact on the war. One soldier, even a biotic, can only do so much in the face of a threat of this scale. We've all had that driven home in the past few months."

He noticed Liara clenching her fists and looking down at the floor, and he knew she was thinking about their recent defeat on Thessia. He wanted to comfort her, but now was not the time. He made a mental note to talk to her later and see how she was doing.

"Maybe he won't make a difference in the grand scheme of things," Shepard admitted. "But sapient beings are not reducible to mathematics. Our bodies might be, but our minds aren't, and in the grand scheme of things our minds are what matter. Every life is valuable. That's what makes us different from the Reapers – all they want from us is our bodies. They'd rather mash each species into a single shell of many voices all singing the song of indoctrination, equip them with unimaginably destructive weapons, and drive them to perpetuate the nightmare and the horror and the slaughter for the rest of ever. They have no problem at all killing the ones who fight back – they don't care if they can't get _all_ of us. They'll be content with _most_ of us."

"Sure," James said. "So you're saying... he should have a chance because he's a person, even if he is a clone and an asshole."

"Essentially, yes," Shepard agreed.

"I guess that makes enough sense," James said. "I mean... you're the Commander here, not me. You've been out here fighting a lot longer than I have. Fighting the Reapers longer than I have, too. You know what's what when it comes to what's worth doing and what isn't. Saving lives... I can get behind that. Saving lives that can maybe save more lives... even better, I guess." He sighed, twining his fingers together thoughtfully. "I still kinda want to punch the fucker until he dies, but... I guess what I'm saying is, I'll follow your lead. Wherever it takes us."

"Thank you, James," Shepard said sincerely. "I realize this is a lot to ask – from all of you. It's been rough, and it'll get rougher before this is through. Depending on what happens with Cerberus, there might not even be time for the clone until after the war is over – if there is an 'after the war is over.' But whatever happens, we stick together. No one gets left behind."

James nodded, now reassured. "I'm with you, Loco," he said firmly.

"Good."

Shepard glanced around, counting who was left. Javik and Samantha still seemed pensive, and EDI was silent and still when he looked at her, so he turned to Tali. She had stayed fairly quiet for the duration of the discussion, and as always it was difficult to tell what she was thinking behind her mask. She seemed ready to speak, however, and stood up straighter when she saw she had Shepard's attention.

"Shepard," she said, "I've wondered about the same things the others have brought up, but it's clear that you've thought this through very carefully. The way I see it, whether the way the clone came into being was justified or not is irrelevant. He exists, and he ought to have the chance to own his existence. You taught me that much, about the geth. And even if I disagreed, you've done more for me and my people than I can ever repay. You have my support – for this and whatever else you choose to do. I'm on your side, always."

"I hoped you'd feel that way, Tali," Shepard said. "Your support means a lot to me." Like Garrus, Liara, Kaidan, and Wrex, Tali had been part of Shepard's crew and a friend since the beginning of this long war. Even though it seemed to him less than two years since the heretic geth had attacked Eden Prime – the time between his death at the hands of the Collectors and being rebuilt by Cerberus having bypassed his consciousness entirely – he felt as if he had known these people all his life. Having their loyalty and respect made him that much more determined to fight for those he held dear.

Tali was not finished. "And I'm glad to give it," she said. "However, I do have one concern."

"What is it?" Shepard asked.

"It's less about the clone and more to do with the timing."

Shepard grimaced. "Yeah... I think I understand what you mean."

"We – and especially _you_ – already have a great deal of responsibility on our shoulders without trying to rehabilitate a deranged clone," Tali said. "At any other time it wouldn't matter so much. There are always things to be done, and we make time for ourselves because we must. But right now that seems... rather lower on our list of priorities."

"Because Reapers, yes," Shepard agreed. "The added stress of this is not something I'm looking forward to, but..." He scratched his face, thinking. "Isn't saving lives exactly what we're fighting for? One at a time if we have to, and from all walks – organic, synthetic, hybrids of both like me, even clones. We're fighting for the right of every being to live as they wish, not forced through an obscene technological singularity they didn't ask for and don't want."

"For sure," Tali said. "When you put it like that, I suppose I understand."

"Don't get me wrong," Shepard said. "Our mission is still paramount. Stopping the Reapers and Cerberus is the most important thing any of us will ever do. But in the meantime, we can't compromise who we are and what we stand for because it's inconvenient. That's what we're fighting to protect, after all."

"Commander," Samantha said, having looked up from her deliberation. "I trust you implicitly. I've read and seen enough about what you've done, and I've experienced enough of your leadership first hand, to know that if there's anyone alive who can reach that... clone, it's you. But I have to echo the concerns the others have raised. I don't much like the idea that he'll be staying on the Normandy with us."

"Anything specific about him that bothers you?" Shepard asked. "I mean... aside from the obvious?"

Samantha thought for a moment. "When I thought he was you, and he kicked me off the ship," she explained, "I looked into his eyes. I saw the same thing you did. Or I suppose... the same _nothing_ you did. It terrified me. I wondered if you'd been indoctrinated. There was no soul in those eyes."

"Not yet, no," Shepard said. "But souls don't just naturally come into existence. They must be willed. He'll create one for himself, if he's willing."

Samantha nodded carefully. "With your help, I believe it. There's more, though."

"Go on," Shepard said. "This is serious business. I want to hear your thoughts."

"I don't think we should give him access to the CIC or the war room," Samantha said. "Or engineering, or any other vital part of the ship, for that matter. And... I would very much appreciate it if you could keep him away from... from me. I don't think I could ever feel comfortable, or even _safe_ in his presence. Not without some sort of evidence that he's really changed, and that may take quite some time."

"That's perfectly alright, Samantha," Shepard replied. "I'm sorry he frightened you. To be honest, he scared the shit out of me, too."

"You're not the only one," Steve muttered. Shepard squeezed his hand, and Steve gave him a smile.

"We can arrange things so that you two never have to cross paths," Shepard said to Samantha. "He'll always be under guard when he crosses through the CIC, and I can comm ahead to let you know where he'll be so you can leave, if you want."

Samantha's relief was evident on her face. "Thank you, Commander."

"As to the rest of what you mentioned, I agree completely. I actually thinking the same thing – unless and until he proves himself trustworthy, his movements aboard the ship will have to be restricted. EDI can keep an eye on him at all times while he's on board the Normandy, and it shouldn't be too difficult to keep him in line if he joins us on missions. We can hardwire a tracking beacon into his armour, and shut down his life support remotely if he manages to escape."

About to say something else, Shepard paused as an unpleasant idea occurred to him. "Samantha, you don't... see him when you look at _me_, do you? You're not uncomfortable now?"

"Oh, no!" Samantha reassured him. "Absolutely not, Commander. I know who you are. Although..." Her expression became apologetic. "There is one more thing I'm worried about, and it's... well, I can't shake the feeling that he might... Maybe I've seen too many bad horror vids, but what if he tries to pretend he's you? I'm sure I could tell the two of you apart, but if he _does_ start acting more as a normal person... I don't know."

"She's right, Shepard," Kaidan pointed out. "Just as an extra precaution, I think he should _always_ be under guard while he's on the ship. He can be alone in his quarters, but nowhere else, and no access at all to the vital areas."

"Agreed," Shepard said. "No point in taking risks we don't have to. Still, there's no telling what he might be capable of, so if it comes to it, there's an easy way to tell us apart. See the scar on my forehead?"

He pointed, and the others nodded. "The clone doesn't have that scar. He might not have _any_ scars – I don't know, but if he does they won't be the same as mine. So just look for that."

"What about over comms?" Tali said. "We have no way to tell your voice apart from his."

"EDI can monitor the shipboard comms," Shepard said. "He won't be able to contact anyone from aboard the ship without her knowing about it. Otherwise..." Shepard considered the matter. "You could always ask a question only I would know the answer to."

"Like what?" James asked.

"Like..." Shepard tried to think of something, but drew a blank. "I don't know. 'What's the password?'"

Garrus, Kaidan, James, Joker, and Steve snickered. Samantha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.

"If you're ever suspicious, the password is 'existentialism,'" Shepard said.

"Understood, Commander," Samantha said. "Thank you. I do hope he's willing to at least try to make up for what he's done... it would be a nice change, saving someone from _themselves_. We can throw him under the 'Ex-Cerberus' war assets. And I'll do anything I can to make your job easier, short of talking to him in person, anyways."

"I appreciate that." Content and relieved at direction of the conversation thus far, Shepard glanced between his last two squadmates who had not yet spoken. Javik shook his head when Shepard made eye contact, indicating that he had not yet made up his mind, and EDI also seemed unresponsive. Shepard gave her a minute before asking.

"EDI? What are you thinking about? A lot of this plan depends on your willingness to watch the clone, but I'm not going to go through with it if you're not comfortable in that role."

"I have no objections to the clone's presence aboard the Normandy," EDI said. "Provided he does not attempt to deactivate me once again – which you have indicated you will ensure he does not."

"Right," said Shepard. "But?"

EDI paused. "Shepard, I have learned a great deal about organics over the course of my existence aboard the Normandy. Since I obtained this body and began to interact with the crew on a more personal level, my understanding has evolved further. Much of that is due to you, and your willingness to answer the questions that arise from my lines of thought. At this time, I feel my understanding of organics is very close to completion – certainly closer than ever before. However... please forgive me for this, Shepard."

"EDI, don't hold back," Shepard said. "You're a member of my crew and a friend. You're allowed to criticize me if you think it's warranted."

"Is that so?" Steve muttered in his ear. Shepard shushed him, though he was not entirely able to hold back his smile.

"Every line of inquiry I have pursued on the clone concludes that he should not be allowed to live," EDI said. "The probability of his willingness to reform is low, and even were he to, the probability of his acceptance by the galactic public – given his nature as a clone of Commander Shepard – is lower still. It is highly likely that other parties exist who, given the chance, would exploit the clone's likeness to you for their own purposes in contravention to the war effort and the general safety and well-being of the galaxy's inhabitants. The known propensities of the clone's creators and his education by Maya Brooks also raise the possibility of a hidden agenda, one which even he may not be aware of. His neural implants and inboards may contain mechanisms of behavioural control or other dangerous software which has not yet activated. My difference engines have tended towards the conclusion that the possible benefits of his aid should his sympathies fall in line with ours do not outweigh the potential dangers of allowing his continued survival."

EDI waited a few moments before proceeding, noting that the others in the room were digesting these several new possibilities she had raised. Shepard himself was deep in thought, considering carefully what EDI was saying.

"Yet you, and others whom both you and I trust, have suggested that the clone be offered survival and rehabilitation regardless. I have conducted a brief survey of the histories, literature, and entertainment media from a variety of species, including humankind. The idea of 'redemption' is popular and most frequently connoted positively. Making this opportunity available to the clone is consistent with the principles which we hold as a common standard in the face of the Reaper threat – that every life is valuable, that all deserve equally to be saved and that all are free to live on their own terms provided they do not impinge on the freedom of others. I suspect that there are additional lines of complex thought behind these principles which I have not yet processed or encountered. This suggests that sparing the clone deserves further consideration and is perhaps not as evidently incorrect as my statistical analysis suggests. The tendency of those I trust most to exhibit this reasoning lends additional weight to the notion that my understanding of organics yet lacks some vital component."

The cadence of her voice became somewhat slower, almost hesitant. Knowing that she consciously chose how to synthesize her voice, Shepard recognized this as a sign that EDI was less confident in what she was articulating.

"Finally, the clone was created by the Cerberus engineers who rebuilt you as a contingency, should healthy body parts be needed immediately during your reconstruction or the subsequent missions you undertook for Cerberus. He is very close to physically identical to you, and has expressed significant negative emotion during your encounters. You have indicated a desire to help him overcome the challenges of his origin to the process of his adjustment toward less destructive and homicidal pursuits. The possibility has occurred to me that your judgement in this matter may be... compromised. I am uncertain how to proceed."

Shepard blinked several times and exhaled heavily. "Damn. Well, I asked you tell me what you thought."

"Shepard, I apologize if I have caused offense."

"No," Shepard said, raising his hands in reassurance. "That's not what I meant. It's just a lot to think about. This is why I value your input, EDI. You think of things I don't."

He took a few more moments to mull over the issue in his mind. Was it possible that his judgement was compromised? Was he being overly sentimental, inclined towards saving a clone who might well be too far gone to save, simply because it was a clone of him? Was the sympathy he felt in fact pity, merely disguised as sympathy? His emotions _had_ been tumultuous lately, what with the devastating toll of the war on the galaxy alongside his deepening romantic connection with Steve and the deaths of numerous friends. Had the war begun to affect his mind? Was his will weakening due to repeated close encounters with Reapers? Was he bitter about the way Brooks had manipulated him, or the involvement of Cerberus in the death of Thane or the fall of Thessia, and looking for something to throw in the Illusive Man's face?

Having conducted a reasonably thorough self-examination – as much as he could in a few minutes – Shepard did not _think_ any of those possibilities were true, but there was really no way to know for sure without asking his friends what they thought.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't think my judgement is compromised, but I'd say that even if it was, wouldn't I? What do the rest of you think?"

"You're not being unreasonable, Shepard," Kaidan said firmly. Shepard looked over at him, hoping he would say more. He did. "We've been friends for a long time, and I'd like to think I know you pretty well. Your experience, your instincts, your skills got you through Eden Prime, Feros, Noveria, Virmire, Ilos, the Citadel siege, and the Collector base. You've orchestrated a cure for the genophage and you made peace between the quarians and geth. I wasn't with you for all of that, but I was with you for a lot of it, and I'm not seeing any difference in the man you were then with the man you are now. I've never trusted you more."

Shepard was moved. He had to clear his throat before he could respond. "Thanks, Kaidan."

"Same here, Shepard," Garrus added. "Sparing the clone seems like just the kind of thing you'd go for."

"That's right," Wrex agreed. "It's doomed and insane, which is exactly why I'd bet on you making it work. This seems pretty much normal to me."

Shepard laughed. "Thanks for that, Wrex."

He glanced at Steve, who nodded. "Well then," said Shepard. "All things considered... I suppose it _would_ be a lot easier to just shoot him, wouldn't it?"

"Maybe," said Garrus. "But you've never been one for taking the easy route, Shepard."

"No, I suppose not."

EDI seemed satisfied. She stood straight, with her hands behind her back. "Very well, Shepard," he said. "You have my full support for your endeavour with the clone. I look forward to observing the results; I expect I shall learn much from your interactions with him. I am ready and able to do my part to keep him under surveillance and contain any threat he may present to our designs, until such time as you are confident it is no longer necessary."

"Excellent," said Shepard, pleased.

"Also, I have a request," EDI said. "If possible, I would like to examine the architecture of the clone's neural implants, and I would like access to the contents of his inboards for analysis and quarantine, should it prove necessary."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Shepard said. "It's a good idea, too. If he has a virus or something loaded up in there, I'd like to know about it."

With that settled, there was only one more person in the room who had not made his voice heard. Shepard was intensely curious as to what Javik thought about his plans for the clone. He had expected a strong refusal, but Javik had not uttered a word since commenting on the pretzels. He had listened carefully to everything that had been said in the meantime, watching each person as they spoke and no doubt considering the matter in his own mind from every angle presented.

Among the members of his crew and those Shepard called friends, Javik was the most difficult to read. He had only met him a few months ago, and as Javik was the only living member of his species, Shepard had no experience with other Protheans to compare. Even Legion had seemed more human than Javik did. Occasionally Shepard felt a brief flash of insight that seemed to illuminate some remark or gesture Javik made, which he could only attribute to the effects of the Prothean cipher he had inherited from the Thorian on Feros. As infrequently as this insight materialized, it was hardly enough to bridge the gulf of fifty thousand years that divided the two of them. Often Shepard felt that Javik's mind was as alien as his body.

"Javik?" Shepard asked after a minute or so had passed in continued silence. "I know you're not the most talkative guy on the ship, but this is quiet even for you. Is there anything you want me to clarify?"

Javik leveled all four eyes at him, an experience it had taken Shepard some time getting used to. The shape of Javik's head made it seem like he was glaring at anyone he looked at, but that was a human's point of view.

"No, Commander. I have not yet made up my mind." He paused for several moments, during which he directed his gaze at the floor, and then returned it to Shepard's eyes. "I have told you how we dealt with traitors in my cycle. This... _clone_... is wildly unnatural, the product of chemicals and machines rather than mother and father. The behaviours of such a creature are difficult to predict. He has proven himself fit for duty, but unworthy of trust. And your talk of 'redemption' smacks of foolishness and wasted effort to me."

Shepard waited. That could not be the end of Javik's thoughts on the matter; he had said he was yet undecided.

"However..." Javik continued. "Despite my misgivings, I also hear wisdom in your other companions' words, and in yours. The idea is at the same time... admirable. I have distant, inherited memories of a similar concept which existed in the old Empire... before the Reaper invasion. There is not much of it left. During my life before the stasis pod, to redeem oneself was to die in battle. I can say no more without reigniting the old memories, and to do that I would have to reach back farther than I care to."

"The Echo Shard," Shepard said, nodding his understanding. The ancient memory storage device Javik had brought with him from the distant past held the last remnants of the Prothean Empire – its beliefs, doctrines, and culture. But it also held a great deal of horror and personal pain. Shepard could hardly blame Javik for his reluctance to touch the artifact and reignite his old memories.

"Yes," Javik said. "I wonder now if it is perhaps time to leave the wisdom of the Empire where it sleeps – in the past. I have seen some things in this cycle which leads me to believe that it is not completely hopeless. Whether that is truly the case remains to be seen."

"Well, I'm glad you're giving us a chance, at least," Steve commented.

Javik ignored him. "I would like more time to think."

"Sure," Shepard said. "That's fair. Let me know if and when you want to talk more about this. Or anything else, you know my door's always open. Well – most of the time it's open. In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't kill the clone."

"So long as he does not cross me, he has nothing to fear," Javik said. "However, should he show any sign of reverting to his treacherous ways, I request that you allow me to throw him out the airlock."

Shepard snorted. "By all means, though you'll have to beat me to it. And we'll both be competing with James too, I suspect."

"_Obviously_," James said smartly.

"That's the other thing," Shepard mused. "If he does act up... well, he's on a ship full of the galaxy's most badass. I think we can handle him if he decides to make trouble."

"He might take a few of you down with him," Wrex warned.

"We can always seal him in the cargo bay," Steve said.

"Does this cargo bay have an airlock?" Javik asked him.

"Of course. It's a cargo bay."

"Then it will suffice."

Shepard leaned backwards and stretched his arms out behind him. "Well," he said after straightening, rolling his shoulders around to loosen them as Kaidan began to collect the empty pretzel bowls. "That's that dealt with. I'm glad that conversation went the way it did. I was wondering what I'd do if you were all bent on killing the bastard."

"Then you've have respected the wishes of your crew, like a good boy," Steve said softly in his ear. Shepard tensed, and then relaxed as he felt a calloused finger sliding along his waist, under his shirt.

"Uh huh," Shepard said with a smirk, watching him sideways.

"Shepard," Liara spoke up. "There's one other thing I wanted to mention."

"What's up, Liara?"

Liara activated her omni-tool. "I've been investigating the possibility that other clones might exist."

"What?!" Samantha looked at her in horror, having been saying something to Tali and only having heard the last few words.

"Don't worry," Liara said hastily. "There are none living that I'm aware of."

"That's a relief," Shepard said seriously. "I don't much like the idea of having to fight _another_ one of the creepy bastards."

"Indeed," Liara said with a smile. "I reasoned along similar lines. I know Cerberus, and they always have a back-up plan – usually several. Even if their back-up plans have a history of failing rather spectacularly, they do exist. Seeing as how the clone was himself intended as a backup, it seemed unlikely that there would be more waiting in the wings to spring into action once this one failed. However, I thought it prudent to investigate the matter as far as I could and make absolutely sure. The last thing we need right now is another murderous clone sneaking up on us while we go about our business, believing the problem has been dealt with."

Javik nodded his approval. "Wise," he said. Liara looked at him in surprise, and then nodded back her thanks. She used her omni-tool to forward a data readout to the main video panel.

"My level of access to Cerberus systems has dwindled in the past few months. I've had to remove several agents who risked indoctrination if they stayed – we can't allow the Illusive Man any more insight into our plans than he has already. Fortunately, I was able to uncover a few relevant records from Project Lazarus. It seems a second clone _was_ created as a backup for the first, but it was terminated upon your successful resurrection."

Liara entered a command into her omni-tool which highlighted a few lines of text on the data readout: _Clone Alpha: ... Status: Active ... Clone Beta: ... Status: Terminated._

"That's good to know," Shepard said after examining the highlighted data. "And you're sure there aren't any more?"

"I can't be one hundred percent certain, but I think it's highly unlikely," Liara said. "These records were classified at the deepest level. If a third clone had ever existed, it should have been documented here."

"So we don't have to worry about more nutcase Locos coming after _our_ Loco," James said with obvious relief. "Good."

"I'm glad to hear that," Samantha agreed.

"'Nutcase Loco' is redundant, Mr. Vega," Steve pointed out.

"So are clones, smart guy," James shot back.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it, nodding. "Touché."

James grinned triumphantly and stood up with a grand stretch. "So is it finally time to enjoy our-" He cut himself off by bumping into the coffee table with his shin, knocking it forward several centimeters. "Ah! _Mierda!_"

"Shore leave?" Shepard said, deeply amused. "Let's see how it goes. Hopefully nobody _else_ will attack us and try to steal our ship, eh?"

The others stood up, breaking off into their own conversations. Shepard looked down at the bag of pretzels in front of him, noticing that there were still some left in the bag. He consumed them rapidly while Steve watched, leaning against the counter with his arms folded and a smirk on his face.

"So," Shepard said thickly, a little sooner than swallowing the pretzels. "You don't think my judgement is compromised?"

Steve shook his head. "This is why I fell in love with you," he said simply, quietly.

Shepard leaned in to kiss the side of his jaw, and then moved to his mouth. Steve responded with lazy enthusiasm, following Shepard's mouth when he pulled back and drawing him forward again with a gentle hand on the back of his head.

"You sure you're up for this?" Shepard murmured when their lips parted several moments later. "This is going to be sort of like raising a kid. A very strong, big, mouthy, slightly crazy, and powerfully biotic kid."

"Sounds like fun," Steve laughed. "He'll never know what hit him."

**Ω**


	3. Chapter 3

**α**

"**Freefall"**

**Chapter 3**

At this stage in the war, the birdsong and burbling fountains of the Presidium caused considerable cognitive dissonance.

The imposing krogan statue of the Rachni War Memorial stood guard over the scene where Shepard sat on a bench, trying to relax. It was not working. The calm environment had the opposite of its intended effect on his nerves. It grated where it should have soothed, induced anxiety rather than peace. The placid clicking of the occasional Keeper seemed to hint at some subtle threat, yet undetected. The gentle breeze that stirred the air now and then felt too artificial, the scent of some Earth-native flower it carried too cloying. The Presidium was beautiful, but Shepard could not take it seriously in the midst of all the chaos and death raging everywhere else. This was merely the eye of the storm; the serenity was but a precursor of the violence to come.

Shepard usually needed as much time alone as he could get to feel sane. That had changed in recent months, as the sheer horror of what they were dealing with meant everyone needed to rely on each other all the more. This was hardly the time to be away from his loved ones, yet none of them had been permitted to accompany him to the Citadel Tower for his meeting with Admiral Hackett and the Council. Since the Cerberus attack, the secrecy and paranoia surrounding the highest echelons of galactic government had reached dual extremes of intensity and pointlessness.

Shepard lit his omni-tool and glanced at the time. Still half an hour before he had to be there. He cursed his obsessive predilection for arriving early to any appointment he had; it came in handy now and then, but more often than not he was _too_ early and left wondering what else he might have done with the time spent waiting.

He contemplated the war memorial. The immense stone krogan had stood in this spot for nearly nineteen hundred years. _One thousand, nine hundred years_, Shepard reminded himself. This statue had endured longer than many terrestrial civilizations. Currently, a bird was perched on its left shoulder, grooming its wing.

Shepard wondered, not for the first time, what the effects of a Reaper invasion would be on the countless planetary ecosystems around the galaxy. How many plant and animal species had already been pushed too close to extinction to recover? Thousands of kilometers of roads turned to toxic slag, entire cities pulverized to atoms, ceaseless bombardment of wreckage from orbit, oceans and atmospheres fouled with dust, radiation, spilled chemicals. Colony worlds with only a few major cities and tens of millions of inhabitants at most would recover easily, the devastation being concentrated around the settlement sites. Other worlds – long-settled colonies, or homeworlds like Palaven, Thessia, and Earth – would be ravaged beyond any precedent conflict. They were so ravaged already, and there was no end in sight; only a distant ray of hope that some alien data held by indoctrinated terrorists could lead Shepard and his crew to the missing component, whatever it was, for an ancient superweapon, the function and capabilities of which were completely unknown...

Shepard wondered if they would build a statue of him after the war. If they won, of course – that was assumed. Would it be as big as the stone krogan? That would be embarrassing. It would be embarrassing even if it was only as big as he was in real life. True, he would probably deserve it. The krogan themselves might even insist on it. The rachni queen, too, if she lived. If the krogan did not kill her. He had saved both their races from extinction. The quarians and geth, as well. If they won, Shepard would have saved everyone who had survived from extinction. Not all by himself, but still...

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

What were the chances he would be left alone after the war? They would make him a god. He did not want celebrity; he wanted to retire with Steve on a garden world with mountains and beaches and at least one moon. Even if he lived, he would be dogged by admirers and journalists for the rest of his life. Maybe he should change his name.

_You can't help me_, said the child.

_I could have, if you'd let me_, Shepard screamed back in his mind, as he had a thousand times before.

He took deep breaths and tried to talk himself out of the fog of despair and mindless terror welling up in him. There were people he loved and who loved him. As friends, and there was Steve and the love they shared which was rather more complex and intimate than friendship. There were people counting on him; to save their lives, save their worlds, save their species. Too many – far too many – but people nonetheless, all of them. People worth fighting for. He wanted to save all of them, and he could not.

Goddamn fucking _Reapers_. The plague of all life, everywhere. Spreading unimaginable horror and slaughter on a truly astounding scale, for the past billion years or so. If the Reapers were beaten, and the Leviathans got any ideas about reestablishing their dominance, Shepard would personally go to their ocean world and dive down there and rip every last one of the bastards apart with his _hands_. He was tired of fighting. He wanted peace. He wanted a galaxy where species could live by their own laws and their own principles. He had done what he could to make that galaxy come to pass; on Tuchanka and on Rannoch, among other places. But he was not finished, not yet.

_One billion years_... older, even. The Leviathans had killed a Reaper over Jartar a billion years ago, but that Reaper had not been Harbinger, the _first_ Reaper. At least one cycle had already passed by that time; perhaps many cycles. (_Millions of years_, his mind whispered. Time enough for evolution, plate tectonics, star formation.) Probably not overly many, though; the Leviathans had been hiding all this time, not fighting.

Shepard opened his eyes. His homeworld was 4.54 billion years old. Older than the Reapers; older than Harbinger; older than the Leviathans, though probably not older than _their_ ancient homeworld, whatever that long-forgotten place had been called. Earth had existed concurrently with the Leviathans and long before even then. Humanity had not; indeed, complex terrestrial life had not. But humanity existed now. Earth would outlast the Reapers, and so would humanity. He would make sure of that. He could not give up; whatever happened, he could never give up.

It was time to go. Or it would be, in another five minutes. Shepard stood up and took a last look at the stone krogan. He had an idea: put another krogan next to this one, a woman. Bakara, maybe, if she approved. The Mother of Tuchanka. The krogan were still the legendary warriors they had always been, and always would be. But now they could look forward to being other things as well. Parents and children. Teachers. Friends. It would be some nice symbolism and a way to welcome the krogan back into the mainstream galactic community. As he set out, Shepard wondered if he was giving the krogan and/or the mainstream galactic community too much credit.

There were more people in the area closer to the base of the Citadel Tower. Almost every time Shepard had been on the Presidium before now, its living presence had been palpable. Humans, turians, asari, salarians, volus, hanar, elcor, and Keepers went about their business, stopped to talk in groups of two or more, or just leaned or sat and admired the view. The atmosphere had felt relaxed and inviting, though tinged with undertones of arrogance and elitism.

All of that was gone now. The common area in front of the Tower was quiet. The Conduit was motionless and dark. There were still people of various species about, though not nearly as many as there once had been. None seemed appreciative or even aware of the dappled shade beneath the Earth-native trees, the bright flowers waving in planters here and there, or the various species of birds that fluttered about. On the contrary; most seemed anxious and in a hurry. Few stopped to talk anymore, and those that did communicated in hushed voices, never for very long. More than one person was crying, discreetly. The very air felt brittle and tense.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Shepard was startled when a voice calling his name broke through the strained calm all around him. He looked around, confused; the voice called again, and this time he pinpointed its source.

"Commander – Commander Shepard!"

The speaker was an asari matriarch, pale purple skin creased with age around her eyes and mouth. Her scalp crest was long and curvaceous. Her facial markings were sparse – a few symmetrical flourishes under her lips and eyes. She was clothed in flowing one-piece garment that separated into pant legs below the waist. Seeing Shepard looking in her direction, she waved him over.

"Commander," the asari said as he approached. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Shepard smiled, briefly remembering some of the innumerable times this had happened to him over the course of his career. "Of course. What is it?"

The asari nodded her thanks. "My name is Ganar T'Komos. I am a teacher of biotic techniques here on the Citadel. I wondered if you might indulge a request."

"I'm listening," Shepard said.

"The asari residents and refugees on the station have grown desperate to assist the war effort since the fall of Thessia," Ganar told him. "Many of them have joined my class, hoping to improve the biotic abilities they had never previously developed. I have taken in as many as I can handle. They will not be graduating from the justicar academy any time soon, but I firmly believe that every prepared biotic on the Citadel will make a difference when the war reaches us here."

Shepard nodded his approval, especially glad that she had said "when" and not "if." The time for denial was long past, and it was good to know that the asari had not been driven to despair by the fall of their homeworld. "I'm glad to hear that. You're absolutely right – every fighter will count. When the Reapers attack, even a simple throw or a well-placed barrier could save a life, or lives."

Ganar nodded gratefully. "My thoughts exactly, commander. Asari can often learn biotic techniques quickly compared to other species, because of our natural control over our nervous systems. Some of my new students are powerful, but they have pursued other interests throughout their lives. They have no learned mnemonics and little precise control. The best biotics are those who begin their training as children – it takes a lifetime of practice to achieve mastery."

"And asari have long lifetimes," Shepard said. "I see what you mean. Trying something new after centuries spent honing other skills sounds like a challenge."

"You are correct," Ganar agreed. "Which brings me to my request. I realize this may sound... presumptuous, but I knew as soon as I saw you that I must ask. Would you consider visiting one of my classes and speaking to my students? Perhaps demonstrating a technique or two that has served you well against the Reapers? My people value highly the teachings of a master, and you are one of the strongest human biotics alive today. It would mean a great deal to them to meet the premier hero of our galaxy at a time like this."

Shepard was flattered. The fact than an asari matriarch, and a teacher of biotics at that, was asking a human to attend her class as a guest instructor drove home just how much attitudes had changed in the last few years. He wanted very much to say yes, but there were a few niggling concerns in his mind. One was that he and his crew would only be on the station for another few days at most – if a tip on Cerberus appeared before their shore leave was up, it would be back to the eezo mines. The other was that had been terrible at public speaking all his life, and he tended toward deep reticence in the presence of strangers. Even among his friends he was quiet. Still, it sounded like a fascinating and worthwhile experience.

"I would love to," Shepard said. Ganar, who had been nervously awaiting his reaction, broke into a smile.

"That is wonderful, Commander! Thank you so much."

"When is a good time?" Shepard asked. "My crew and I are waiting on an intel update. We may have to leave on short notice, but we're here on shore leave for another few days."

"You are on shore leave?" Ganar said. "My apologies, Commander – I did not realize. I understand you must need to take a break from the fighting now and then. You of all people surely deserve it. I would hate to interrupt your furlough."

Shepard waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's enough just to be off the front lines and spending time with my friends. And this is absolutely worth my time. I'm happy to help."

"Oh," said Ganar. "Well, if you are certain – our next class is tomorrow, here on the Presidium. I will transmit the location and time to your omni-tool."

She activated hers to send the details. Shepard lit his own omni-tool as it received her transmission. He examined the data, nodding. "Got it. How many students do you have?"

"About sixty," Ganar said. "I look forward to telling them about our guest. A decorated Spectre's insight into combat biotics is a rare privilege."

Sixty asari. Shepard was already nervous. The asari had been practicing biotics for tens of thousands of years, and Shepard was a first-generation human biotic. What could he possibly teach them that Ganar could not? Clearly something or she would not have asked him, but even so.

And he would need to speechify, alone – a far cry from motivating his crew with a few inspiring words here and there. Maybe he should practice in front of a mirror, or get Steve to help him make notes about what to say. What _would_ he say? "I'm sorry about Thessia; now you know how I've felt for the past three months"? His heartbeat picked up. He half-considered telling Ganar that no, actually he was mistaken and there would be no way he could do it after all, despite how rude it would be after he had agreed moments earlier.

Then something Ganar had said pinged in Shepard's mind – Spectres. He was the first human Spectre, but he was not the only human Spectre, not even the only _biotic_ human Spectre. Maybe he did not have to do it alone – a friend by his side would go a long way to making him more comfortable.

"You know," Shepard said, "Kaidan Alenko is part of my crew, and a friend of mine. He's here on the Citadel with me, and a powerful biotic himself. If you like, I could speak to him and see if he's interested in coming as well."

Ganar's face lit up. "Would you? How extraordinary that would be. Two Spectres! My students would be elated. I hope he agrees."

Me too, Shepard thought direly. "I'll talk to him today and let you know before the class tomorrow if he'll be joining us."

Ganar nodded and reached out to shake his hand. Shepard obliged her, and she folded both of her hands around his. "Thank you again, Commander. I cannot overstate how much this means to us."

"It means a lot to me too," Shepard said. "Knowing that people are stepping up, that they're eager to help however they can. I know we can win this if we work together."

"Your words ring true," Ganar said. "And we _will_ live up to them. Your efforts, your sacrifices will not be in vain, Commander. We will not waste the chance you are giving us." From the echoes of grief in her tone, it was clear she was not merely talking about her biotics class. "I won't keep you from your business any longer. Goddess be with you."

Shepard nodded his thanks. "Until tomorrow, then."

Ganar went on her way and Shepard continued to the Citadel Tower, feeling substantially better. The human C-Sec officers guarding the elevator waved him through.

As he ascended, it occurred to Shepard that the Goddess of Ganar's benediction had in fact been a Prothean, and that she was millennia dead. Should he be annoyed that the asari had wished him the protection of a false, long extinct idol?

No, he decided. What Ganar had wished him was not the emptiness of an ancient superstition, but the principles reason had distilled from it over time: love, loyalty, respect, and understanding. She hoped and worked for Shepard's victory, for the victory of all life. Yes, that was a better way to think about it.

**ασυνέχεια**

There were geth in the Citadel Tower, and quarians as well. Shepard was pleased, though surprised, to see them reaching out to the Council already. It was yet another encouraging sign that the galaxy was changing for the better, even amidst the invasion. The last time Shepard had seen geth mobile platforms here, they had been under Sovereign's control, trying to kill him. The opening battle of the very war that now engulfed every world, in fact. No doubt the memory of the Citadel siege was still raw, even in the minds of those who had not been dead for two of the intervening years.

It was not even solely the organics who had reason to be wary. Shepard had personally witnessed the brutality with which the Citadel species had treated the geth at the dawn of their intelligence, first in the geth memory banks on Rannoch and then in the Council Archives. Yet if his experiences with Legion had taught Shepard anything, it was that despite those facets of organic behaviour which mystified them, the synthetics often understood organics much better than organics understood themselves. That was the paradox of the geth: they were simultaneously among the wisest and most alien beings Shepard had ever encountered.

Each of the five towering Primes present in the lower and middle levels of the vast audience chamber were accompanied by two quarians, one man and one woman. The Primes were conspicuously unarmed, though they were doubtless capable of defending themselves if necessary. All were engaged in quiet conversation with Citadel dignitaries, one from each Council race plus the volus. To Shepard's eye, the relations seemed, if not cordial, at least civil. As they should be; the quarians and geth had already more than proven themselves since entering the wider conflict with the Reapers. No doubt the sacrifices both species had made (and would make) on behalf of those who had shunned them for three hundred years would be instrumental in the creation of a larger, more inclusive galactic community.

Shepard had to ascend many sets of stairs to reach the Council podia. _They'd make for good defensive positions if this place is ever attacked_, Ashley said to him in his mind. Shepard smiled sadly. Her insight had proven prescient: Saren and his geth had been well entrenched, though fortunately not well enough.

Many of the trees here had wilted since Shepard had visited the audience chamber with Liara after the fall of Earth. Their upkeep was no longer a priority, and even the Keepers had been kept busy repairing damage from the Cerberus attack. The fountains had also been disabled at some point, likely to conserve water.

Near the tower's summit, Shepard noticed some additional old-newcomers: a party of four krogan, including a woman and led by Wrex. The battlemaster-turned-politician noticed Shepard's approach and broke off from his group.

"Shepard," Wrex said, reaching out to shake Shepard's whole arm.

"Wrex," Shepard replied. "I thought you'd left for Tuchanka."

"We're leaving right now," Wrex informed him. "Glad I caught you before I left. You here to talk to the Council about that clone?"

"Yes," Shepard said. "They've agreed to let him live for now, but I suspect I'll have to convince them why they should just like I convinced you."

Wrex snorted. "Have fun with that. I'm still not sure I _am_ convinced... but then I remember it's you. Say, someone mentioned something about a party. If that's still happening, I'm in. You know where to find me."

"I'll let you know," Shepard said, amused. "Take care, Wrex."

"Shepard." Wrex beckoned to his companions, and they departed. Shepard continued up the last flight of stairs to the Council. He was eight minutes early, but all four Councillors were there already – the asari Tevos, the turian Sparatus, the salarian Valern, and the human Dominic Osoba, ambassador and now acting Councillor since Donnel Udina's attempted coup. Shepard nodded to them and stood at attention on the petitioner's stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Keeper disappear into a squat tunnel in a shadowy corner.

"Councillors," he said.

"Welcome, Commander," Osoba greeted him. "Thank you for coming. Admirals Hackett and Anderson are to join us via QEC. They should be patching in momentarily."

A minute and a half passed in sober silence. Osoba said nothing else, spending the time contemplating his terminal with an occasional haptic scrolling gesture.

Up here, in the heights of the Citadel Tower, there was very little noise. Only barely audible murmurs hinted at the presence of ongoing conversations in the lower levels of the audience chamber. The light of the Serpent Nebula, reflected from the station, entered in dusty violet streamers through the vast window behind the Councillors. From this perspective at the Citadel's central axis, the buzzing activity of the Wards was reduced to geometric flows and channels of light.

Shepard felt as if he were in the galaxy's attic, observing old rituals few still paid attention to or cared about. He could almost sense the war going on in rest of the galaxy, churning like a vortex around this huge, undisturbed room. Even the Councillors seemed distracted; Tevos was distant, her mind elsewhere, and Valern and Sparatus were both working on their omni-tools. Osoba's expression was moody, but he paid attention to what he was reading.

Thinking about what they were here to discuss, Shepard wondered about the necessity of it. He had the support of his crew. Hackett had already basically told him to do whatever he thought he had to. The Council had all but given up since his failure on Thessia, putting their hopes and their trust in Shepard completely. Still, they were his superiors, and deteriorating conditions everywhere else was no excuse for failing to respect his allies. At the very least, he owed them an explanation, as well as his reassurances that he would keep the clone under control.

Finally, Osoba lit his omni-tool. "Patching in the Admirals now."

An electronic whirr accompanied the holographic appearances of David Anderson and Steven Hackett to either side of the Council podia. Shepard saluted them both with a genuine smile.

"Shepard," Anderson said, returning the smile and the salute. "It's good to see you."

"Same to you, Anderson."

"Thank you for joining us, Admirals," Tevos said. "This meeting of the Council is now called to order." She gestured for Hackett to speak.

"I appreciate being kept in the loop," Hackett said. "Shepard, let me say right off the bat that you have my support whatever you choose to do. I've already told you why I put you in charge of this war, and that hasn't changed. That said, while I can see the tactical value in keeping your clone alive, I have some serious reservations about whether or not he can be trusted. And I'm sure Anderson and the Council would like to voice their thoughts."

"I understand, Admiral," Shepard replied. "I wouldn't expect you to let this pass without some assurance that it won't go wrong. This is a... pretty unusual situation."

"It is more than unusual, Commander," Valern said. "It is unprecedented. No doubt you're aware that both Citadel and Alliance laws prohibit the cloning of sapient beings. An errant clone poses considerable risks, as recent events have made abundantly clear. While illegal cloning operations are not unheard of, never before in Citadel history has a Council Spectre been cloned without our knowledge, let alone broken into one of our most secure facilities and fraudulently altered the bioprints of its template."

Shepard arched his eyebrows at "without our knowledge", and he was not the only one, but he made no comment.

"In that respect, what transpired in the Archives has brought to light a number of egregious lapses in our security," Valern went on. "Some are perhaps pardonable, given current circumstances and the improbability of an attack of this nature. Others, however..."

His eyes had narrowed considerably, and his tone seemed accusatory. Shepard had no idea what the salarian was talking about, and put on a politely confused expression.

"To clarify, Shepard," Sparatus said. "It is one thing to illegally alter the bioprints of any galactic citizen, let alone a Spectre. It is entirely another to break into the Archives by blowing a hole in the wall with explosives."

Shepard's eyebrows shot up and his mouth formed a silent "oh" of understanding. "Right. Uh... sorry about that. We were in a hurry." He glanced at Anderson, who had covered his face with one hand to hide his amusement. "It won't happen again."

"That is appreciated, Commander," Osoba said. "The Spectres' mandate is to protect galactic peace, and to work toward that end in times of war, by any means necessary. However, should you find yourself needing to excavate Citadel property with explosives at any point during future missions, and if time permits, we ask that you please call C-Sec first and let them know what you're doing."

Shepard could not help smiling, though he tried to make it contrite. "Understood, Councillor."

"Per your report, it is unlikely that the clone could have convinced anyone he was you – for long, anyway," Valern said. "Still, we are fortunate that you were able to stop the clone before he could escape with your ship. Your bioprints have been restored, and we have kept the clone's on file should they be needed. In addition, we feel the risk of future attempts by Cerberus to steal your identity should not be taken lightly. Have you considered the possibility that other clones may exist?"

"Liara looked into it," Shepard said. "There was one other clone, but Cerberus terminated it after my recovery last year. It's not impossible that they'll try to make more, but I think it's unlikely. The Illusive Man is indoctrinated. He's not about to try anything else that might give us an advantage, and I doubt he could spare the resources anyway. His hands will be full dealing with the _real_ me, fairly soon."

"As to that, the Special Tasks Group has been devoting all the resources it can spare towards tracking Cerberus," Valern informed him. "They are coordinating with your communications specialist aboard the Normandy. No plausible leads have yet turned up, but you will know the moment we find anything. _We_ have not given up hope just yet," he finished, and though his large, liquid eyes remained fixed on Shepard, nobody present missed the icy barb aimed at Tevos. The asari Councillor folded her hands in front of her and looked down at her console, expression carefully blank.

"I appreciate that," Shepard said evenly.

"Now to the matter of the clone himself," Valern said. "I presume his aid against Cerberus and the Reapers is the 'advantage' you spoke of. I cannot speak for the other Councillors, but so long as you are confident in your ability to keep the clone under control and incapable of compromising the war effort in any way, _and_ if persuading him does not take up valuable time better spent elsewhere, I see no reason not to pursue the potential asset."

"I concur," Osoba added. "I only ask that you be extremely careful about your own safety when dealing with the clone, Commander. As dark as things seem right now, I have no doubt they will get darker. Whether you know it or not, you are a symbol of perseverance and hope to every galactic citizen. If we did not need every able soldier so badly, I would deem the danger to you alone intolerable. We simply cannot afford to lose you."

"So I've been told," Shepard said, a little wearily. "I promise I'll be careful. My crew always has my back."

Sparatus spoke next. "I am less inclined than Valern to forgive, let alone place any trust at all in a clone," he said. "Were circumstances not what they are, I would insist he die. But... I too freely admit that I am desperate for whatever aid he can offer. Shepard, if you really think you can convince him to fight for us, then by all means do it. However, should the clone's old tendencies resurface, he is to be terminated immediately – preferably by you, to ensure there is no chance he survives."

"Of course," Shepard agreed. "My crew has voiced the same concern. Whatever happens with the clone, whether he takes the chance I offer or not, he won't threaten the Citadel or the war effort again."

Sparatus nodded, satisfied. Shepard looked at Tevos, who had maintained an uncharacteristic silence since greeting the Admirals. No doubt she was still grieving the loss of Thessia, and apparently annoying Valern with her plans for "continuity of civilization", whatever they entailed. Shepard wondered if she had found a reason to keep fighting since their last conversation.

Tevos continued to contemplate her terminal for a few moments before looking up and speaking. "I have no objections to your plan either, Commander. Extending compassion rather than punishment is a wise decision. From what you have said, it is clear that the clone is suffering already. I see no need to exacerbate that. However, if... that is, with the understanding that we all hope and fight for a future..."

She paused, searching for words. Valern turned his head to look at her, curious.

"Should any of us survive what is coming, and if he is among them," Tevos said, "he will need to learn more than just how to direct his aggression against the true enemy. If a tactful opportunity presents itself, I ask that you try to impress upon him the magnitude and severity of his crimes. He killed two dock officers, and four in the Archives who did not evacuate in time. On his command, his mercenaries inflicted violence and terror on people who were doing nothing but enjoying each others' company. He very nearly stole an irreplaceable warship while the Citadel faces an enemy bent on our extinction. And he tried to kill a Council Spectre – not just any Spectre but Markus Shepard. You are very precious to us, Commander, not merely because you are our brightest hope for victory. That you fight is valuable enough; what you fight _for_ is infinitely more so."

She was gazing at him steadily, eyes glimmering. Shepard was too surprised by her naked emotion to say anything.

"Know also that my decision would likely be different were it not you who spoke on the clone's behalf," Tevos said. "As my colleagues have mentioned, at a time like this, anyone else would have been executed without trial for what he did. We give you this chance because we have learned to trust you, often the hard way."

_Only_ the hard way, Shepard wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Responding snidely when Tevos had spoken to him more as a person than she ever had before struck him as grossly inappropriate. He was surprised to find his voice caught in his throat; he had to try twice to speak. "Thank you, Councillor. I'll do ask you ask, and I won't let you down."

She smiled bravely. "You never could, Shepard."

"Admirals?" Osoba said after a moment had passed during which the only sounds above the ambient murmur were the clicks of a Keeper passing behind the four Councillors. "Is there anything you wish to add?"

"I thought I was surprised at first, when I heard what had happened," Anderson said. "Not so much about the clone – I know Cerberus, and that's just the kind of game they'd play. But that you let him live... it's not what I would have done. Then I thought about it some more, and I realized that I wasn't surprised at all. You're a peacemaker, Shepard. You give second chances. It's the right thing to do, and I'm proud of you."

"Shepard, from what you've told me I think you're right that the clone couldn't fool anyone who knows you," Hackett said. "But I'm still concerned he might try to fool someone who doesn't. I'm wondering if maybe we should set up some kind of password and distribute it to the higher-ups of every species' government, just in case."

"It can't hurt," Shepard said. "My crew and I decided on one, too. It's-"

"Shepard," Valern said, holding up a hand to forestall him. "With respect, I suggest we decide on a means of verifying your identity at another time."

Shepard blinked. "If I may ask, Councillor – why not now? We're all here, and this room is secure against eavesdroppers." He paused. "Isn't it?"

"It is less secure than I would like," Valern replied. "And there is another matter I wish to discuss with you, in private. It is not so critical that it cannot wait, but it could be dangerous if it were widely known. The other Councillors know to what I refer."

Shepard glanced at Osoba, who nodded. Shepard shrugged.

"Alright then. You know we'll be leaving as soon as something turns up on Cerberus, but that could take anywhere from a day to a week. I'll be back on the Presidium tomorrow – I've been invited to an asari biotics class as a guest instructor."

"A biotics class?" Tevos asked. "That of Matriarch T'Komos?"

"That's right," Shepard said.

Tevos smiled at him. "Thank you, Commander. You are generous to volunteer your time while you are here on shore leave."

"I will contact you via high-security omni-tool channel tomorrow, Commander," Valern said. "We can meet somewhere private after the Matriarch's class has concluded."

"Got it," Shepard said. "Tomorrow, then."

"That is everything we wished to cover today," Tevos said. "Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Commander?"

Shepard had been hoping she would say that. "As long as we're all here, I'd appreciate some updates on a few things."

Tevos nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

"When we spoke last, you mentioned making preparations for the continuity of civilization. Has Liara told you about her time capsule?"

"Yes," Tevos said. "She requested a considerable volume of historical and cultural data from the Archives to include in the capsule along with information on the Reapers and the Crucible. I authorized the transfer myself. She plans to leave copies of her VI on over a hundred worlds throughout the galaxy, many of which are still inhabited and occupied by the Reapers. Asari commando teams, turian cabals, and the Special Tasks Group have assisted in deploying the capsules. They will be well-concealed, designed to reveal themselves fifty years after the last detected presence of Reapers or their agents. Barring destruction by cataclysmic natural forces, the capsules should last long enough to reach the next cycle. It is hoped that the garden and mineral-rich host worlds will attract colonization efforts by future civilizations, who may discover and open the capsules."

"That's good," Shepard said. It was hardly comforting to openly discuss possible solutions to the Reaper threat that would come fifty thousand years too late for anyone alive right now, but the responsibility was on them to warn future cycles. After all, they had only survived this long because the Protheans had done the same thing in the distant past. "Have all the capsule been installed?"

"Most of the work is now complete, though not all," Tevos answered.

Shepard nodded. "Anything else?"

"Sparatus and I have overseen the exodus of numerous colony ships," Tevos informed him. "Asari, turian, salarian, human, krogan, volus, and geth volunteers have left Citadel-controlled worlds with enough supplies and equipment to set up new colonies, as well as copies of the time capsule. Dozens of ships have departed already, and more are preparing to leave soon. All will sever contact completely once they leave known space. They plan to avoid even known uninhabited garden worlds, in case the Reapers search every system in our databases. It is hoped that should the colonists find habitable worlds and enough resources to survive, they might outlast the invasion."

"At the cost of total isolation," Shepard said grimly.

Tevos nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Yes. Offers were also extended to the quarians, elcor, hanar, batarians, and drell, but there were not enough volunteers from those species to sustain a viable population for as long as the Reapers' harvest may last. However, thousands of individual geth accompanied each exodus, with access to vast and thorough memory banks of technology, history, literature, and other cultural media. They have agreed to safeguard these repositories in their communal hubs and ensure the data is not corrupted or lost. There have been some difficulties due to distrust of the geth, but – admittedly, to our surprise – diplomatic solutions have prevailed. Skilled asari biotics also accompanied each ship to aid in defense and facilitate the sharing of information and memories between colonists. If any of the ships manage to found successful settlements, and if we survive the Reapers, it is possible that we may one day find them again, and that they may rejoin galactic society. If we fail..."

She trailed off, and Shepard nodded sombrely. At least some remnants of galactic culture might live on, though how long the refuges could endure total isolation was impossible to say.

Tevos had rested her head in one hand, covering her eyes. Sparatus laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't give up," Shepard urged. "We're not done yet. I swear to you, I will not rest until the Crucible is complete. I _will_ protect this galaxy."

Tevos looked up at him, tears in her eyes once more. She tried to smile. "I... apologize, Shepard. I still grieve for Thessia, and Earth, and so many others, worlds and people both. I will not demean the sacrifices you have made by giving up hope. But that is easier to say than it is to do."

"I understand," Shepard said softly. "Hang in there. We'll get through this."

"What else would you like to know about, Commander?" Osoba asked.

Shepard braced himself on the console in front of him and mentally ran down the list of things he had intended to ask about. "Do we know anything about what's happening on Parnack? Are the yahg aware of the invasion?"

"What little intelligence we have suggests that they are not," Valern said. "Our stealth satellites monitoring Parnack are intact, but communicating with them has become increasingly difficult due to the damage to the comm buoy network. In addition, the VI now makes only token reports to keep us informed of critical changes – its processing capacity is needed elsewhere."

"Makes sense," Shepard said. "So what do we know?"

"Prior to the Reapers' arrival, at least one yahg nation was planning a manned space exploration mission to their moon. However, well-founded concerns by other nations over the potential weaponization of orbital platforms eventually sparked a war that has engulfed the planet," Valern explained. "Nuclear weapons have not yet been used, but at least two powerful factions are known to possess them."

"I realize we have far more important things to worry about right now," Shepard said. "But the yahg bear watching. If we lose, they'll have fifty thousand years to advance and colonize the galaxy before the Reapers come back. On the one hand, I'd almost like to see the Reapers take on a galaxy of yahg." He smiled humourlessly. "On the other hand, I feel for the hundreds of species the yahg would conquer and enslave after spreading out from their home system."

"Council analysts have echoed your concerns, Shepard," Sparatus said. "Parnack may be at war right now, but one way or another it will stabilize eventually. If they avoid large-scale destruction, the winners will be well on their way to interplanetary travel."

"Exactly," Shepard said. "So I'm wondering – are there any projections about how fast they could spread?"

"The closest mass relay to Parnack is ten light years distant," Valern said. "However, their home system's outer debris cloud is known to contain element zero deposits. It is feasible that they could develop faster-than-light travel and discover the relay network within a century."

"So if we live, we're going to have to deal with them sooner or later," Shepard said.

"That is correct. While the Council would prefer not to have to bomb the yahg into submission, or extinction," Valern replied, "we _will_ take whatever actions are necessary to defend ourselves and our sovereignty. We will allow nothing to jeopardize the peace we are still fighting the Reapers so hard to attain."

Shepard nodded. "I'm glad to hear that. I hate the idea of wiping them out, too. We'll see how things develop. On that note, I'm also glad that you're making inroads with the krogan and the geth. If and when the yahg become a problem, we'll need their help."

He waited a moment to see if any of the Councillors or Admirals had anything else to add. When nobody did, he asked, "What about the raloi? Any word?"

"Turvess has cut off all contact," Tevos said. "We have heard nothing since their delegation left the Citadel, months ago. I presume you heard about their plan to destroy their orbital technology?"

"Yes," Shepard sighed. "Lucky them, I guess. And the Virtuals? Have diplomatic relations progressed at all since the invasion began? They might know something about the Crucible, or the Catalyst."

Tevos shook her head. "I'm sorry, Commander, but when the Reapers arrived, the Virtuals retreated to uncharted space, taking their technology with them. They have not responded to any further attempts at contact, and where they are now is impossible to determine. With the limited trade that was approved before the invasion, the Virtuals likely have enough battery power to suit their needs for another century. We suspect they are hiding, hoping to wait out the invasion. As for the Catalyst, Council dignitaries meant to ask that very question after our meeting following the fall of Earth. However, by that time, the Virtuals had already departed."

Shepard bit back another sigh. "Well, it was worth a try." He chewed his tongue thoughtfully, thinking what else he wanted to know about. He turned to Hackett. "Admiral, it's been more than a month since the Collectors reappeared, and my crew and I have yet to encounter a single one of them. It seems odd to me, given how they hounded me last year during the colony raids. Do we have anything solid on their numbers, their capabilities, or their preferred targets?"

Hackett entered a few commands into the console in front of him, invisible since it was outside his holographic field. In the space between the petitioner's stage and the Council podia, a larger holographic projector flashed an image of a Collector drone into being. It appeared slightly different from the ones Shepard had fought. Having met Javik in the meantime, he could now see the resemblance to Protheans, but after fifty millennia of alterations and cloning the Collectors looked even less like their progenitor race than husks looked like humans. The creature's carapace was mottled grey rather than the muddy brown he remembered. It was larger, and its armour plating seemed denser. It sported two horn-like protrusions on its head and an extra set of eyes, for a total of six.

"The first reported sightings of Collectors since Fehl Prime came just after Cerberus tried its coup," Hackett said. "Nothing was confirmed until they hit Yandoa five weeks ago. An Alliance AI on site managed to capture detailed scans and recordings. From what we've been able to tell, the Reapers have been improving the Collectors since you took out their home base in the galactic core. Their drones are tougher, and they're now being led by intelligent field tactician units like this one." He indicated the hologram. "We've called them Captains. They've also brought their husk monsters with them – astounding numbers of them, in fact – but other than dragons' teeth we've seen none of the technology they use to create new ones."

The projected image changed to display two obscene creatures Shepard recognized with a flash of old fear: a Scion, three human husks fused together to create a walking artillery weapon, and a Praetorian, a flying crab-like tank built from thirty husks. Valern's eyes widened at the sight of the creatures, and Osoba paled.

"Their Scions and Praetorians have been modified just like the drones," Hackett continued. "They can withstand far more fire than they ever could during the colony attacks last year, and their own firepower is considerable. Scions use directed-energy pulse cannons similar in principle to ravagers, but stronger. Praetorians can cut unshielded hardsuits in half with their particle beams, and at close range their claws can cut through even heavy armour with shields fully charged. Their drones still carry specialized neural-interface weapons, but they never seem to need reloads of ammunition or heat sinks. On top of that, every single time armed friendlies have resisted a Collector attack, Harbinger has retaliated by controlling individual Collector units – even their husks. It can elevate any unit, even one on the brink of death to three times its normal strength. We've lost entire squads to a single possessed Praetorian, and to top it all off it can control two or three of them at a time on the same battlefield."

More than one at a time? Shepard did _not_ like the sound of that. He shuddered to consider the results of Harbinger assuming direct control of even a solitary Scion or Praetorian.

"There's no question the Collectors are the Reapers' deadliest troops," Hackett said. "The only good thing about this is that there doesn't seem to be that many of them. We've only identified three unique cruisers and eight black arks, though we can't rule out that more exist and just haven't appeared yet. They've been exceptionally careful, and just like in 2185 they tend to retreat when we throw enough fire at them to threaten their ships. Our analysts think that their numbers have been effectively static since you destroyed their home base. Without the cloning facilities in the galactic core, they have no way to increase their numbers. They don't appear able to replace Scions or Praetorians, either. The only exceptions are their kamikaze husks and their seeker swarms."

The holographic images changed again. On the left was a human husk, on fire – an abomination, a suicide bomber. On the right was one of the large, four-legged insectoid creatures Shepard remembered all too well from Horizon and the Collector base. The Reapers' agents deployed the seekers in sky-darkening swarms to inflict paralysis on any unprotected victim of their bite.

"These are always replenished, no matter how many we kill," Hackett said. "Thanks to the late Dr. Solus and the intel we picked up at Fehl Prime, we have countermeasures to protect our soldiers from the seekers' paralysis, but their bites can still induce serious combat fatigue. Civilian colonies have no defense at all except forewarning."

Shepard glared at the hologram and clenched his fists. He still had nightmares now and then about the Collectors, particularly what he had seen them do to the colonists they abducted. The memory of watching a woman screaming in helpless agony as she melted still brought an unpleasant surge of nausea. He wanted every last one of the fiendish things wiped out. He almost wanted to meet them in battle again himself, just so he could kill more of them. Shepard knew that his desire for vengeance was irrational and pointless – the Collectors themselves were little more than biomechanical zombies, their own thoughts and voices drowned out by indoctrination eons ago. He pitied them, but it was still difficult not to hate them as well.

He wondered how Javik would feel about the Collectors. No doubt seeing such grotesque caricatures of his people, such brutal evidence of what had been done to them, would cause him pain. But maybe killing some of the Prothean husks' cloned descendants fifty thousand years later would give him some satisfaction.

Hackett went on with his report. "As for their targets, the Collectors have concentrated on pockets of resistance while the bulk of our forces are occupied with husk troops, Cerberus, and Reaper-controlled geth platforms," he said. "Their attacks have increased in frequency since they hit Yandoa. Three worlds previously untouched by the invasion fell entirely to the Collectors, and they've kept up their old habit of abducting humans for harvest. They seem reluctant to engage our frontline armies and fleets, probably to avoid endangering their ships, even though casualty rates among our units fighting Collectors are substantially higher than against other factions. On the plus side, the Collectors have never emerged unscathed from an engagement with us either, and every time we kill one, there's one less Collector in the galaxy."

"I'll take what I can get," Shepard said. "If I meet them again, I'll kill as many as I can."

"Be careful, Shepard," Hackett warned. "On the one hand, the Collectors prefer to expend their abominations and swarms before they risk themselves. On the other hand they've shown themselves capable of fielding dozens of Praetorians at once. We have no idea why they didn't deploy all those monsters against you when you were taking the fight to them, but there it is. Whenever they show themselves, we pay dearly for every casualty we inflict. Our units without tank or air support are decimated."

"I've fought enough of those things to know how they operate," Shepard said. "But I understand. More than one Praetorian at a time sounds bad enough, let alone _ten_. I'll be careful."

"Please do," Hackett said. "It's been said already, but you're the best we've got, Shepard. We can't finish this without you."

"Finish it is exactly what we'll do," Shepard said firmly.

Hackett nodded. "Good." The projected images of the burning husk and Collector seeker winked off.

"This intelligence is appreciated, Admiral," Osoba spoke up. "I was aware the Collectors had reappeared, but I did not realize the magnitude of the threat they posed compared to the Reapers' usual troops. I know that C-Sec has already been briefed, but I will see that this information is distributed to civilian agencies here on the Citadel as well. When they attack here – as they surely will – we _must_ be prepared."

"Agreed," Hackett said.

"That's about all I wanted to know," Shepard said. "Although if you can, a more general intelligence update on the state of the war would be good."

"Certainly, Commander," Valern said, activating his omni-tool and calling up an information feed on his terminal. He made a few scrolling gestures, eyes darting back and forth as he took in the data. Eventually he began to summarize what he had read while his mind processed the information a few paragraphs ahead.

"Citadel defense is approaching theorized maximal preparedness," Valern began. "Three quarters of the civilian population is combat ready and receive daily training in various militias. All station residents are aware of the locations of emergency shelters and weapons storage sites. However, we are critically short of medical supplies, as we are using them faster than we can produce them. Thousands of residents suspecting themselves to be indoctrinated have turned themselves in to C-Sec custody. In addition, several hundred Reaper and Cerberus agents have been caught and neutralized or quarantined.

"The station's population is currently above its theorized life support capacity, but krogan and geth technologies have improved the energy functions, grid integrity, and efficiency of a number of systems, including the defense networks and atmospheric exchange. Food is in short supply, but the automated dispensing systems run by the Keepers are functioning at peak capacity. The Keepers themselves appear to have increased in number to help deal with the additional residents. We will all be somewhat hungrier than we are used to being for a long time, but nobody will starve.

"Morale is holding steady. Our people are desperate, but few have publicly given up. Citadel matriarchs report that public discourse has remained encouragingly centered on cooperation, preparation, perseverance, and hope. Three so-called 'appeasement cults' calling for surrender to the Reapers have been linked to Cerberus or other indoctrinated persons and dismantled. Profiteering has declined steadily since the initial spike when the war began, and violent crime is low; however, suicides _are_ at unprecedented levels, particularly among the indigent populations in the Ward Foundations.

"Outside of the station, Kahje, Korlus, Dekuuna, Illium, and Bekenstein have fallen. Our forces yet hold the Kypladon system, though we will soon have to retreat from that front. Fuel storage facilities are at capacity, and emergency production has begun in some areas of the Citadel, but critical shortages are expected within weeks. Fleets are being withdrawn from Palaven, Illium, Irune, Tuchanka, and Omega. As various outlying clusters have fallen, the Citadel's garrison has received an influx of veteran infantry units from around the galaxy. When the Reapers come here, we will make them fight tooth and talon for every centimeter they take. All spaceworthy forces are being concentrated here or with the Crucible – at this point, all our hopes rest on your projected attack on Cerberus turning up a means of retrieving the Catalyst."

Valern entered a command, and the holographic projector reactivated, displaying a map of the galaxy nearly four meters in diameter. At another command from the salarian, a complex web of lines appeared within the map. Most of its nodes were flashing red, though a few surrounding the Citadel and scattered other holdouts remained blue.

"The comm buoy network," Valern explained. "Few of the buoys still function, so we are increasingly forced to rely on QEC for inter-system communication."

He tweaked a haptic control, and the crumbling network disappeared. A map of the mass relay network took its place, with most similarly outlined in red. One more command displayed the locations of all known Citadel-aligned fleets in the galaxy, almost all of which clustered around the Citadel and Crucible.

"Reapers or Reaper agents control the majority of the mass relay network," Valern said. "The exception is a transit corridor to Rannoch, which the quarians and geth have kept open at cost to themselves." Valern highlighted the mass relays in question. "Technologies shared by the geth have also improved the efficiency of the remaining buoys and QEC; as a result, bandwidth priority and information propagation has not suffered as greatly as we feared it would."

Shepard pointed to the Pranas system, which still blinked blue and hosted a large fleet despite being surrounded by red. "Why haven't the salarian fleets evacuated from their home system?" he asked. "I understand it's a terrible thing to have to do, but they'll die if they stay there."

Valern closed his eyes in irritation and shook his head. "The Union refuses to abandon Sur'Kesh. Our colonies are falling silent entire clusters at a time; contact was lost with Mannovai not two hours ago. The Special Tasks Group predicts capital Reaper presence in the Pranas system within ten standard hours."

Shepard frowned and leaned forward, angrily gripping the console in front of him. "Staying there is suicide. The Reapers will rip them apart. Believe me, I know how awful it feels to have to retreat from your own homeworld, but there's _nothing_ the salarians can do. The best hope for Sur'Kesh's population is to evacuate industrial areas and disperse from large cities. Hide in the wilderness in small groups and make guerilla strikes wherever possible. The fleets will be no help to anyone if they're dead and their crews' bodies are raining from orbit. They _need_ to join the Citadel or Crucible fleets, _immediately_."

Valern listened with morose patience, remaining silent throughout Shepard's rant. When he had finished, Valern briefly touched between his eyes with two fingers, signaling weariness.

"I am sorry, Commander. My personal opinion is that you are absolutely right, and the strategies you mention are the only hope any of my people have to survive. The STG agrees with you as well. It is most unfortunate that our government does not." His tone rang with distinct contempt. "I cannot say for certain, but it seems very likely that they are acting this way out of _spite_, because of your support of the krogan and the genophage cure. My voice is perhaps the loudest among many trying to change that; spite is worthless to us, and much _less_ than worthless to the dalatrasses, but..."

He paused, dropping his gaze from Shepard's, the disdain fading from his voice as sadness took its place. "They are very stubborn. I only hope that my species' shortsightedness does not doom us all."

Shepard was shocked to hear a Citadel Councillor talk about his own government like that. From the looks Sparatus, Tevos, Osoba, Hackett, and Anderson were giving the salarian, he was far from the only one who was surprised. Still, if that was the way it was, there was nothing more he could do. He nodded to Valern.

"I'm sorry that my actions have caused a rift between the salarians and humans," Shepard said sincerely. "Don't give up trying to convince them, though. They may yet come around. Maybe when the Reapers are blowing their fleets out of the sky..." He sighed. "Good luck."

"Indeed, Commander. We will need it."

Shepard straightened. "Thanks. That's all I wanted to know."

"Very well," Tevos said. "This meeting of the Council is adjourned."

Hackett raised his hand in farewell. "We'll talk again soon, Shepard," he said. "Enjoy your time off. When we get that intel, we're hitting Cerberus hard, so rest up."

Shepard smiled thinly. Time off, indeed. "Understood, Admiral."

"Hackett out." The Admiral's projected image disappeared.

"I have to get going too," Anderson said. "Hacket'll keep me updated on Cerberus. Try not to feel guilty about taking a break, Shepard. You deserve it, and when you come back, you'll get it done. I know you."

Shepard did not know quite what to say, but Anderson had patched out before he could think of anything. He marveled, as he always did, at the older man's ability to tell what he was thinking just from his face – even, apparently, across tens of thousands of light-years.

"As do we," Valern was saying. "Farewell, Commander. I will be in touch tomorrow by omni-tool."

"Spirits be with you," Sparatus added. Shepard nodded, and the Councillors departed. He turned and started back down the stairs towards the elevator.

Along the way, he activated his omni-tool, which he had silenced before the meeting. There was one message waiting, which he opened. It was from Steve.

_Subject: All work and no play..._

_From: Steve Cortez_

_Mark,_

_Now that we've got a little down time on the Citadel, I wanted to share something with you. I'm taking the shuttle down to Silversun Strip. Meet me at the transit stop outside your apartment._

Shepard smiled for real this time. It was a lot harder to feel guilty about shore leave when he remembered he would be spending it with Steve. And the rest of his crew, of course, but... Steve. Steve was special.

**Ω**


End file.
